Pirated Soul
by Cryophase
Summary: A pair of Luminoth discover an escaped Space Pirate slave. Taking place after the events of Metroid Prime 2. Updated bi-monthly.
1. Chapter 1 -Escape

Six eyes opened for the first time. Wires and tubes fastened for months finally detached, their purpose fulfilled. The pain of their departure awoke him. Red, viscous amnion circled down a drain beneath him and the pod opened.

It was cold. That was the first thing he noticed. He was exposed for the first time. Everything was a blurred haze of grey, sound rushing in and out of his head without leaving any meaning. It took a few seconds for his new senses to fully focus.

An angry voice growled at him, shoving a steely piece of machinery into his hands. Somehow, he understood what the tool in his hand was for.

He knew he had orders to fulfill, and he did not hesitate to obey them. He couldn't. For though he could see, hear, and feel, those senses were merely simple inputs to a programmed mind. They were there to react to, not to observe.

He instinctively followed the programmed course, carrying his equipment down into the mines. A long stream of pirates was laid out along the cavern wall, drilling away into the deep, blue ore. There was only one gap in the continuous line of slaves. He didn't stop to question why it was there. Obediently, he filled the empty space and rammed the ore-processor into the wall. The steely claw at its tip latched on to the oily substance and cut a swath through the rock. A neat, unprocessed cube was the result, and he instinctively tossed it onto the conveyor belt behind him. He repeated the process, again and again, delving deeper into the seemingly never-ending deposit.

Something liquid, cyan blue gazed down at him from the ceiling, a tiny leak from something much greater above. It had already invaded one victim today. It had permeated his skin, moved through his blood and touched his pathetic, animal mind. It took it for its own, and drove the creature to madness. He was killed almost immediately after, his corrupted form viewed as a threat by his more intelligent superiors. But a dead body was no setback, it was merely meat.

The suspended droplet did not look alive, and it certainly did not look intelligent. It simply blended in, undetectable as its schemed its attack. Finally another body was within reach, and so it let go of its perch, beating down hungrily through the air.

It missed its mark by a small margin, dripping onto his mere left arm. The slave's fresh skin was battered and bruised from labor, and provided only a laughable barrier. The liquid creature found an open sore. It sank in and squirmed inside him, inching its way upwards, closer to his mind.

The process did not go unnoticed. As soon as the vile substance touched his skin, it burned. The slave did not understand what was causing it, only that his arm had erupted into agonizing pain. He backed away from the wall and started screaming. Something writhed beneath his skin, moving with a will of its own. His roars resonated through the caverns. His fellow slaves took no notice.

He wanted it to end. A glitch, perhaps the first in a long while; the slave formed an idea. To use a tool for something other than its intended purpose required some degree of intelligence, creativity. Things he shouldn't have possessed. But under the staggering pain the parasite brought him, his mind was pushed to its limit. Acting on impulse, the pirate drove the ore-processor into his shoulder. The lasers cut swiftly through his flesh and an arm fell to the ground twitching. The lifeform inside it had failed. It seemed to acknowledge this fact and promptly began consuming its severed vessel.

He staggered backwards, clutching desperately at an empty socket. Rich, black blood came out in droves as he fell to his knees. His brain was overloaded with data, the pain and unreal loss too much for his small mind to handle. For the first time, he began forming thoughts.

_What is happening to me?_

"Two in one day? Damn I'm lucky," the overseer laughed, interrupting the slave's fetal thoughts.

"Fuck off, I get to kill this one," another interjected, drawing an energy blade.

Though he could not understand their words, the slave knew what a weapon meant. He shook his head and meekly pulled himself off the ground, trying to move.

The aggressor's impertinence only drove the other overseer into attacking him. He roared and pushed him to the ground, voicing his dominance. It only antagonized yet another attack, and rather than killing the now-useless slave, the two slavedrivers were at each other's throats.

The slave staggered backwards, still clutching pitifully at his hole of an arm.

_Escape…_

Escape? What was that? Getting away... Away from their weapons. Was it possible?

He ran, leaving a trail of blood behind him. Nothing mattered anymore but getting away alive. No slave should have shown such resistance, yet this one wanted to live. That most basic of animal instincts had been brought to the surface.


	2. Chapter 2 -Rescue

He ran past slave after slave, all still drilling mindlessly at the wall. He found himself perplexed by their oblivion, even though he had been identical to them only moments ago.

He was losing blood and strength with each passing step. His vision was beginning to haze. He wanted to stop, to lie down and not use his legs anymore. But it was too soon to do that. He ran past the very last slave, into a tributary cavern and kept going.

He'd never had a destination. He'd never known where he was to start with. The slave only knew that he wanted to get _away_. But now, miles away underground, he had even forgotten what he was running from.

_Why do I run?_

He tried to remember but he couldn't. _Go back?_ he considered, but he did not know the way.

His bleeding had slowed to a trickle. It was partly due to fast coagulation and partly due to a shortage of blood. Finally, he collapsed against a wall and panted heavily, still whimpering from the ever-present pain.

_What happened to my arm? _he thought feebly to himself, struggling to remember.

Just another thing he could not wrap his mind around. Though the slave did not know it, he was dying. Such was typical of his caste, to be expended so early on. Equally typical was his inability to realize it.

His pain was a very real and tangible thing to someone nearby. A native to the world his overseers had so carelessly invaded. But the alien knew his people were not here to start a war, only to steal a valuable resource, one which the inhabitants were glad to see go. There was no conflict on that front.

She was only here to collect data. To measure what remained of the pestilence that was so close to purging. The richest deposits were being worked away, and pirates were thorough indeed. She was grateful for that. This area had been stripped bare. Nothing remained but rock, and the lack of blue luminescence meant she had to provide her own light. She held it in her palm like a surreal lantern. It dimmed as she winced in pain, as she was forced to feel the suffering mind of someone nearby.

Curiously concerned, she made her way towards the source. She was surprised to find a pirate, for they did not usually straggle far from their hive-like groups. Luminoth did not usually speak openly with them, but she was willing to make an exception for someone so clearly and utterly helpless.

"_What happened to you? Why do you not seek medical care from your people?"_ she asked, speaking with her mind. It was without language, something universal that she was confident anyone would understand. He did not answer her. Instead she felt a head-pounding fear from him as soon as she spoke. He clutched at his head with his single arm and huddled up further against the wall.

She was surprised that she would elicit such a reaction. Luminoth were far taller than pirates, more than twice their height, so perhaps he was afraid of her appearance. But no, it was more than that. Her very _thoughts_ had injured him. Perhaps it was the amount of information she had tried to convey. Hesitantly, she tried again.

_"What's wrong?"_

This time, she felt no additional pain. Short, simplistic phrases seemed not to hurt him as much. He growled out an answer, not in Urtragian but in his own, unintelligible grunts. But Luminoth did not need language to understand.

"It hurts," he growled. It was almost laughable, the primitiveness of their conversation. It was like talking to an infant. But primitive as it was, his pain was very real, and clearly his own kind had offered nothing to help. Perhaps they were even the cause of his injury.

She knew she should not interfere. She knew she was not meant not to meddle in other species' affairs, especially a war-faring one. But standing here beside a helpless child, forced to feel his pain, I-Sil was deaf to customs. She only wanted to end the pirate's suffering.

"_I will help you,"_ she answered simply. She leaned down and extended her arm. Instantly she was met with aggression. The worn pirate roared weakly as he saw her approaching, flashing his rows of sharp teeth in warning. But didn't he understand she was trying to help?

The concept did not exist in his world, so even with her wordless speech, the simplistic creature did not understand.

She wanted desperately to carry him out of this wretched cavern, to give him the medical care his own people had so cruelly denied him. The thought of him dying right here in front of her was too much to stand. She crouched slowly, meeting him at eye level, trying to make him understand her benign intentions. _"Please don't be afraid,"_ she asked quietly, again moving a hand towards him.

She was met with the same reaction as before, only far, far weaker. The pirate didn't have the strength to summon a growl anymore, and merely bared his teeth in silence. There was nothing he could do to resist anymore. His breathing increased rapidly, speaking his terror as the stranger loomed closer. Finally it was cut short. One last, forced breath and he slipped from the conscious world.

She could hear his heart beating, slowly and sluggishly. He had passed out. She did not blame him, considering his condition. But this was the chance she had wanted. If he was not awake to resist her, she would finally be allowed to help him. Tenderly the giant knelt down and picked up his broken body, carrying it away into the sunlit world above.


	3. Chapter 3 - Decisions

_"I-Sil you are a fool."_ He did not attempt to mask his disapproval, looking down at her as she sat beside the one-armed creature. She had done something without thought, without consideration. She had brought a wounded alien into their home and bandaged him, put him on life-support. And for what? For some childish, altruistic whim? He was a beast, a primitive creature created to be just that.

U-Lir knew of pirate births. As a geneticist he had been both thoroughly intrigued and disgusted by it. Pirates had the strictest caste system of any species he knew. Quotas were put on each caste; slaves, soldiers, commandos, scientists. Each individual, if they could even be called as such, was branded and labelled before they were even born. They were grown, with set parameters for intelligence, strength and aggression. Even their very thoughts had a programmed tract.

_"You pity a machine,"_ he said coldly. That's all this creature was; a programmed, efficient machine. And he must have outgrown his usefulness; that was why they tried to dispose of him. He recognized the caste: slave; a miner, minimal intelligence comparable to a rat. A life-span of around one stellar cycle, usually less due to disposal after injury.

_"Machines do not suffer," _she answered.

U-Lir shook his head, thoroughly put off by his mate's foolish sentiment. _"You will only do him harm by keeping him alive."_

She did not answer. She knew he was right, of course, but she could not bring herself to let the pirate die. U-Lir felt her sorrow, and even he had to admit he had some hesitation. "_It would be the merciful thing, to do," _he said, turning his head away.

_"Perhaps,"_ she admitted. _"But would it be just?"_

She looked down at the ferocious face of her patient. He was almost fully recovered, from what she could tell. She had bandaged his shoulder and provided his body with the nourishment it needed to replace blood. He would live, if they left him be. But what kind of life?

_"Please do not feel empathy for him. He is programmed, he is a slave. They are built with a purpose and when that purpose is exhausted they have nothing but to wither and die."_

_"You are wrong,"_ she answered stubbornly. _"What purpose did he have, alone and suffering, far away from any others of his kind? He ran away for a reason." _As far as she was concerned, that was all there was to it. He had run away because he wanted to live, and so she had granted him that. _"Perhaps he sought a new purpose."_

She was again met with a condescending response. _"You transcribe your own thoughts onto a non-sentient being."_

U-Lir could feel her anger to his response. Such frustratingly _illogical _anger. He hated to see her in such emotional turmoil. Surely there was a way to reason with her.

_"What will we do, keep him? He would be like a pet, one that gets lethal headaches whenever someone tries to talk to him. Would you do that to him?"_

I-Sil did not have an immediate answer. So desperately did she want him to live, and yet she knew it was true, he could not live among them as he was. She had an idea, and she did not fully think it through before she shared it. _"Perhaps you could change him. Help him... understand."_

_"What?" _U-Lir asked, thoroughly shocked. _"Surely you are not serious, I-Sil."_

She looked at him and allowed him to feel the sincerity in her words. Though she did not fully consider their meaning, she found herself unwilling to go back on them. _"You helped restore the mangled DNA of the Torvus fauna, how hard would it be to change this pirate? To expand his mind? You told me before, they are highly malleable, their genome open to any new data or alteration-"_

_"That is enough!" _U-Lir yelled. She flinched at the sheer magnitude of his decree, looking down at the ground. _"I-Sil, this is not the answer,"_ he blocked the emotions from his words. "_This thing is not the child you mistake it for."_

_"I never said he was,"_ she answered quietly. Perhaps she was being selfish, as he suggested, and for that she was ashamed. What if this creature truly wasn't self-aware? Her proposal might only make him suffer more. She remembered all too well what merely speaking too many words had done to him. She stood up from his side and walked towards her mate.

_"He has recovered,"_ she said simply. _"If you want to end it... you will need to do it yourself." _Her words were simple, concise. The pirate was no longer dying; he had healed, and it only made the task harder.

_"Fine,"_ U-Lir answered. He walked away, to a small alcove in the lab, filled with datapads, test tubes and panels. Various chemicals and cultures filled the empty spaces; a geneticist's workplace. He punched in a sequence of commands on a panel, and a thin clear liquid filled an empty vial. He procured a syringe from the clutter.

I-Sil was shocked, how was he so prepared? "_You already have a serum?"_ she did not want to believe it was true.

U-Lir hesitated a moment before he answered her. "_Would you rather we be unprepared, once again, if a species were to turn hostile against us?"_

"_The pirates have never attacked us in the many years they have been here,"_ I-Sil answered indignantly.

U-Lir laughed. "_It is only a matter of time. They are kept at bay by fear. Such a truce is hardly steadfast,"_ he said bitterly as he filled the syringe.

At that moment, the pirate's eyes opened, and he became aware. His mind fired with questions.

_Where am I? What happened? It doesn't hurt..._ he found himself fixated on the last thought, and started repeating it over and over again in his mind. _It doesn't hurt._

He looked around, searching for an explanation. All he could see were two titanic creatures looking down at him. One was the same as before, the one who had approached him in the cave. Before, he had been hostile, because he was afraid. But now he could see that her presence signed the passing of the pain in his shoulder.

I-Sil looked away, her amber gaze cast on the floor. She did not know what to do but to stand silently, the weight of her guilt bearing down upon her as her mate neared the defenseless pirate, ready to end his short life.

_"I'm sorry," _U-Lir said. Despite his view of him as a mindless machine, he felt it only right to show remorse for what he was about to do.

Gently he took the pirate's only arm in his fingers. The pirate offered no objection at all as the titan's needle neared closer. I-Sil found herself perplexed by the lack of retaliation, so different from his earlier response towards her. So intrigued was she that she looked up, and blurted out her question to him. _"Why aren't you afraid?"_

U-Lir hesitated, unsure whether to continue. He bristled with anger that I-Sil had attempted interaction, now of all times.

The pirate heard her, and he knew full well the answer. "You take away pain," he admitted, grunting in his low clicks, glancing at the empty bandaged socket of his left arm. The Urtraghian bowed his head, a gesture of submission. Despite U-Lir's intentions, the pirate trusted him. The Luminoth's hand trembled and finally withdrew, he couldn't do it.

As simplistic as the pirate's response was, he had felt the emotion behind it. I-Sil felt it too. It was far more complex than the simple pain she had felt earlier. Weak, but they were there; joy, relief, trust. So happy was he to be alive and not be in pain anymore. Suddenly very guilty U-Lir backed away, fist clenched and eyes closed.

He shut himself off from I-Sil, too ashamed to let her feel it. She could see that about him, and placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to offer him comfort. He had been proven wrong. Simply from being offered a single gesture of kindness, the pirate's entire demeanor had changed. He was no machine.

U-Lir shut his speech off from the pirate and directed it to I-Sil alone, so that he would not hurt him. _"Perhaps, if he already has sentience,"_ U-Lir admitted. "_Then perhaps cognitive development is feasible." _Yes, it was possible. But what was the point in giving the pirate sanctuary? U-Lir struggled to understand why his mate was so desperate to help him. The creature was small, so laughably small. He was naive and helpless.

A child; this was what she saw. U-Lir thought I-Sil very naive, herself.

I-Sil smiled, and knelt down beside the pirate. How would she phrase this so that he would understand?

_"Hello," _she started off simply. The pirate tilted his head as though he did not understand even the simple greeting. She pointed at him, wanting to be sure he knew what it meant. After some difficulty he followed her finger and mimicked the gesture, pointing to his own chest.

"Me?"

_"We can change you, make you more like us. Would you want that?" _It was as simple a question as she could muster, and even it made him flinch slightly, he rubbed his head and struggled for an answer.

"Giants know more. Giants do more than me. Maybe," he paused as though uncertain, struggling with a new idea, "I could do more."

It was all the affirmation she needed. He was capable of understanding his shortcomings and seeing better possibilities. There were risks involved but he wouldn't have the capacity to weigh them. He wanted to 'do more', and who were they to deny him that right? I-Sil turned to U-Lir, who waited solemnly for her answer. She nodded, and he did not object.


	4. Chapter 4 - Stasis

_"Any change today?"_

_"No, still stable," _U-Lir assured her calmly. It had become a nuisance, her constant checking up. Every day she would visit his lab to see the pirate. It was almost as if she were concerned U-Lir would end up killing him after all. He didn't blame her, on that end. At any moment it was perfectly possible for the subject to reject the genes altogether and go into a fatal relapse.

U-Lir had used his own DNA. It was a choice between his and I-Sil's. His was simply more compatible, and seemed to produce a smaller chance of rejection.

The rumors spread quickly, and word was long out of what they were doing. Some thought it wrong, of course, but not strongly enough to interfere. Some had no feelings one way or the other, or if they did they chose not to share them. Genetic manipulation of any sentient being was questionable, U-Lir would be the first to admit that. But the subject had given consent, so was it really that wrong?

He began to wonder if the pirate had ever truly understood what they offered him. Was he intelligent enough to evenmake the choice? U-Lir did not know. He hadn't wanted to do this in the first place, it was only due to I-Sil's insistence that he was. And now she was here every day, checking up on him. She would often stay in the lab and watch the pirate even long after U-Lir had left. It troubled him, her strange, almost motherly concern. He glanced up from his readings, observing her.

I-Sil gazed curiously into the sleek glass tube, eyes wide with smiling wonder. She had watched him change, so slowly. His more vicious features had softened. The teeth in his top jaw had withered away entirely, and those on the bottom had become minuscule. His third pair of eyes had moved forward and closed permanently, sprouting soft, tendrilly antennae in their place. A second, smaller pair had started growing closer to his mouth. U-Lir had explained that as a mistake on his part, as it was only later he found out the third set of eye genes was more feasible as a base. The secondary antennae would go away as he aged, as would his second pair of eyes

'As he aged'... it was a strange thought indeed. U-Lir had mentioned that his particular breed did not usually live past a year. Naturally, he had changed that. With his manipulation he had stabilized his rapidly-degenerating cells. They now replicated and wore with a similar rate to a Luminoth, meaning he would live to see many more years.

She placed her hand on the glass. She had been watching for a very long time. The pirate was curled up, legs tucked against his chest and eyes clamped shut. Every now and then, the tiniest of twitches. Of a finger, a toe, a piston on his mechanical arm. V-Jme's engineering was unparalleled, and the two had been lucky he was willing to build for him, considering who it was for. He had examined the other arm and made a perfect match. The pirate instinctively twitched the metal fingers as naturally as he did his own. I-Sil wondered how he would react, waking up to it.


	5. Chapter 5 - Sentience

Eight months had passed. More than twice what it had taken for him to be born in the first place. But the purpose of this second life was not efficient labor, and so there was time. Time for him to grow. Time for his mind to expand, gradually becoming more intelligent and capable.

He would not awake with his full ability. No, that would be too drastic a change. U-Lir decided the best option was to ease him into it, and allow him to be awake and aware for the majority of the changes. He would grow into them, but for now U-Lir had placed limits. He was already afraid of how he would react, waking up with all the changes; new senses, a mechanical arm, a quintupled IQ... U-Lir had failsafes in place, in the likely event that he went mad as soon as he awoke. He had warned I-Sil of this possibility, but she seemed confident he would be alright. U-Lir knew that to be merely hope rather than logical premonition.

He was sure to keep him asleep even after his removal from the pod. He needed to check everything; brain function, heart rate, nerve firings, he was very thorough. Everything seemed to be normal, or at least within the standards U-Lir judged to be agreeable for his hybrid creation.

He decided that the room should be empty, devoid of people. It would be best to give the pirate time to come to bears with his changes, alone. He and I-Sil stood behind a one-way mirror. U-Lir kept an eye on the monitor, watching for any dangerous changes that would demand he force the pirate back into stasis.

U-Lir released the suppressing grip on his mind; the tiniest spark of an attached electrode. Four eyes flared open. Deep, soulful magenta that captured a new, vibrant array of colors. All he could see before was the blue hue of his target, and all else was shades of grey. Color was a fascinating thing indeed, if a bit overwhelming. He blinked several times, confused, but grew accustomed to it fairly quickly. He sat up, stretching his long-inert limbs.

Something beige and serrated trailed into his field of vision. Instinctively he flinched, as though to dodge it. It followed him, staying stubbornly in his gaze. He realized it was stuck to his head, and so grabbed it to flick it away. He growled in surprise and pain; the thing was a part of him? The rough way in which he'd touched it brought a painful sting. The cold scent of metal flooded his mind, and faded back to the sweet smell of damp air as he withdrew his mechanical hand. Strange, he didn't remember that, either. He took a better look at his left arm. To his surprise, he _had _one again. It glinted metallic silver, but felt so identical to his natural arm he hadn't even noticed the difference. He toyed with it for a moment, touching each of the two fingers with the thumb and smiling in disbelief.

_Was this here before? No, someone built it, it is a machine. Did I make it? No, of course not._

Those were the first thoughts that came to mind. He found it strange, the complexity of them. It was not painful, just deeply confusing. He'd never thought something like it and it fired off a thousand other questions in turn. Everything was so different, and he couldn't remember anything from before. Why? What had happened? Panic started to flare as he struggled to remember where he was and how he had gotten to his current state. And with every new thought came shock and fresh anxiety.

U-Lir watched the monitors as the pirate's brain fired with activity and his heart rate accelerated. As he expected; he was having a panic attack. Nerve activity in his head showed U-Lir that he was beginning to suffer a migraine. He sighed and shook his head. The pirate had become too intelligent for his unprepared mind to handle. He had planned for this. He moved his hand to activate the failsafe. The still-connected electrode would knock the pirate back out, and he could try to somewhat reverse what he had done. Otherwise he would literally think himself to death.

To his surprise, I-Sil stayed his hand, urging him to stop.

"_Let me try something else,"_ she asked.

U-Lir thought for a moment. "_Make it fast."_

She nodded, acknowledging the need for urgency. She stepped out of the observation room and walked calmly over to the thought-ridden pirate. She felt his confusion beat down against her like a sick, chaotic miasma, but she remained undaunted.

He was, at first, oblivious to her presence. Nothing else existed outside his head. She broke that barrier with a gentle touch to the shoulder. He flinched at the contact and swivelled his gaze to meet hers. He was terrified, she could see. Terrified of his own newfound thoughts. She gave him a gentle smile and offered him an unseen aura of comfort, of soothing, peaceful emotions that drove out his own.

"_Calm down,"_ she whispered. "_Just... stop thinking for a moment and focus,"_ she advised.

She had helped him before; he trusted her, and so he took her words to heart and followed them as best he could. He shut his eyes and tried to focus his thoughts. He chose something to focus on; his breathing. Each breath in, then out in a constant pace. It was all he concentrated on, the flow of air through his body. In, then out... in then out. It slowed pace as he calmed down, thoughts slowly coming back into order.

I-Sil said no more. Meditating had come naturally to him, and he did not need anymore help. The chaos he exuded faded, a calm sort of silence in its place.

U-Lir allowed himself a breath of relief as he watched the pirate's vitals go back to normal. Whatever she had done certainly seemed to work. He stepped out to join her, eyeing the meditating pirate curiously. It was a strange sight indeed.

"_What shall we call him?"_ I-Sil broke the silence.

"_Call him? You mean, give him a name?"_

She nodded. The thought struck him as strange. "_I don't know, I had not thought about it,"_ he admitted.

I-Sil looked to the pirate. She smiled. Despite his dominantly alien features, he reminded her of U-Lir. He was created with his DNA, after all, so she supposed it was only natural for there to be a resemblance. Luminoth took their names from their mothers, usually. But there was only one here who was truly related to him, and he needed that extra bit of connection far more than she did.

"_K-Lir,"_ she suggested. Truth be told, she had already given much thought to it. "_What about K-Lir?"_

U-Lir looked at her, surprised. She wanted to name the pirate after him?

"_You are his father after all,"_ she said simply. He flinched at her words, unsure how to react.

The pirate overheard them. Were they talking about him? Her words stuck in his mind; the first bit of identity he had ever known.

"Kayleer," he repeated, sounding it out. The pirate opened his eyes and took a deep breath, hoping the nightmarish onslaught of thoughts would not recur once he dispelled his focus. To his relief, they did not. He could think clearly now; intelligent, orderly thoughts. He remembered what had happened before. He remembered losing his arm, and being saved by the titanic alien standing before him. He remembered how she had offered to 'change' him. This must be the change she meant. He almost laughed, overjoyed by the simple fact that he could _think._ That he could form ideas. That he could understand. The world around him seemed so much more real and meaningful, his eyes and mind finally open.

They were looking at him, observing him. He took quick notice. Was he supposed to say something? Were they expecting something? He knew he was grateful for what they had done. For everything they had done. He understood that now.

"Thank you..." he muttered, at first unsure. Then, more strongly, "Thank you for helping me."

I-Sil found herself overjoyed by the simple sentence. But she wanted more, she wanted more proof of the inner workings of his mind. "_How do you feel?"_ she asked simply.

"Smarter," was the first thing that came to mind, certainly. He moved himself off the table and stood, twitching his feet on the stony ground. "I can think," he found himself laughing now, something very new, but he enjoyed it. He started laughing louder, unable to withhold it. "I can _think!_" he yelled at them, as though he were telling them something new and exciting that they simply must know.

"But, you know that, you're the ones who did it to me," the sound of his own sentences filled him with so much glee he thought he would burst.

I-Sil smiled, she was happy for him. U-Lir watched in silence, once more unsure what to feel. The creature who only months ago had been a primitive, unintelligible slave had grown into something- someone far different than he ever expected. He gave him that, he realized. And it was nothing to regret.

"Kayleer," the pirate repeated again, fully curious. "Is that me?"

U-Lir was the one who answered this time. "_Yes,"_ he assured him. "_Welcome home."_


	6. Chapter 6 - Rumors

For the first few days, they kept him inside. They tried to teach him, speaking with both their minds and pure, spoken Aetherian, in the hopes that he would begin to pick up their language. It began to stick, little by little, as did their lessons of Luminoth culture. Slowly the pirate grew more and more accustomed to his new home, and in time even U-Lir began to observe a blur in the line that existed between their species.

I-Sil grew hopeful that Kayleer would one day be able to integrate fully with her people. That he could find his place among them. She was confident that he would not be judged, so long as he could function.

But her hopes were quickly extinguished.

U-Lir summoned I-Sil to the lab. His demeanor seemed very dismal, almost afraid, and I-Sil wondered fervently what troubled him.

"Ah good, I-Sil has joined you," a voice chimed in. I-Sil turned her gaze to the shimmering green form of a small Luminoth standing upon a console in front of U-Lir. Her eyes widened, and she too felt U-Lir's fear, as she gave an obligatory bow towards the holographic form of the Torvus Sentinel.

"As I was telling U-Lir, I have caught wind of your little experiment," the Sentinel explained, a hint of malice in her voice. "I-Sil, did you not have the wherewithal to talk sense into your foolish mate? Or no, perhaps you even played a part in it," she narrowed her gaze.

I-Sil said nothing, and the Sentinel took it as confirmation, shaking her head in disappointment. "Do you know the danger you've put us in by harboring that thing? What if it is a criminal among its people? What if they come after _us_ in pursuit of it? Or, worse, what if the thing does violence unto the Luminoth? Have you not seen pirate interactions with other species?"

"T-Kev, he was a slave, he was disposable to them. We only-"

The Sentinel held up her hand, and I-Sil was quickly silenced.

"Please, spare your words. I have made my decision. It will be returned to its people. It is none of your business what happens to it after that."

"He'll be killed!" I-Sil protested, losing control of her temper. U-Lir felt waves of terror come off her, and he felt himself sharing in her despair.

"It is not your business to interfere with their transgressions," T-Kev said simply.

"T-Kev please, perhaps you should reconsider…" U-Lir suggested meekly.

"I would have expected you to be the more sensible of the pair, U-Lir," the Sentinel said condescendingly. "I will save you the trouble of contacting U-Mos for an appeal, I have already notified him of the situation, and once I have my approval the pirate will be confiscated. Please do not necessitate the use of force," she warned. And without another word, the holograph dissipated, leaving the pair in silence.

"She can't do this, they can't just take him away, U-Lir. He has done nothing wrong," I-Sil said woefully.

"I-Sil…" U-Lir sighed. "We knew there were risks like this from the beginning. It was foolish to think we could harbor a being from a hostile race and have the Sentinels think nothing of it."

He averted his eyes, directing his gaze towards the pirate sitting so quietly against the far corner of the lab. In his hands was a tiny puzzlebox, its sides illuminated with various colors. He turned it in his hands, over and over, attempting to create new patterns with every swivel. He was blissfully unaware of his guardians' conversation, for he could neither fully understand their spoken words nor feel their distressed emotions, yet. It pained U-Lir to think that he was considered a threat.

"Is there nothing we can do?" I-Sil begged.

U-Lir shook his head. "We could try to hide him, to give him shelter somewhere hidden. But it would only delay the inevitable."

She fell silent, absorbing the hopelessness of the situation. She stepped towards Kayleer, kneeling down towards him. He looked up, curious and a bit confused.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"_No, nothing at all," _I-Sil answered, putting on a smiling facade. She motioned toward the puzzlebox in his hands. "_Have you solved it yet?"_

U-Lir watched as I-Sil feigned an interest in Kayleer's game, pretending as if nothing out of the ordinary had ever transpired. It was for his sake, he knew, but it was painful to watch. I-Sil was right; if returned to his own people, he would be killed, at best, and at worst he would be taken and used as a laboratory experiment. U-Lir shivered at the thought.

Before the inevitable happened, U-Lir realized he would likely have to do the merciful thing, and finish what he had first tried to do all those months ago.


	7. Chapter 7 - Judgement

Three days passed, and I-Sil began to fall into the pitiful hope that perhaps no action would be taken after all. But soon a stranger summoned them to the doorstep, and she knew her hopes were in vain.

With a heavy heart, she went to answer it. But she stepped back, eyes wide with surprise. The visitor was not whom she had expected. She gave a nervous bow, stuttering in her motions.

"G-greetings, U-Mos" she stammered, deepening her bow. She was confused, frightened almost. Why would the very Sentinel of Aether consider this matter important enough to pay a personal visit? I-Sil was made all the more nervous by his overpowering aura.

He bowed back, returning the formality.

"T-Kev seemed quite distressed when she informed me of a pirate taking residence in Torvus," he began. "I thought I would come to evaluate the situation for myself, considering the action she suggested taking."

I-Sil's eyes brightened. This was the chance she had wanted; to prove that Kayleer was not a threat. If she could convince U-Mos then perhaps his life could be spared after all.

She nodded in understanding, and offered U-Mos passage. She led him into her home.

"Do you know why the pirate was extradited from his own people?" U-Mos inquired.

I-Sil paused. Truth be told, she knew very little. "He was a slave," she began. "Perhaps he disobeyed an order or merely did not work as efficiently as he should have. It's possible he was simply injured while laboring. Whatever the case, if he was unable to work, his superiors would have killed him," she explained, citing what U-Lir had told her about pirate customs.

U-Mos seemed unconvinced, and narrowed his gaze. "So then, you are certain he is innocent of any real crime?"

I-Sil became quiet. She did not know much about Kayleer's life prior to their encounter.

"He was not much smarter than a krocuss when we first met," I-Sil explained. "I find it hard to imagine that a creature with such limited intelligence was capable of being a criminal."

U-Mos smiled wryly. "I see." As they rounded a bend, I-Sil led them into the lab. The atrium doubled now, as a recreational area for the pirate, who took quick notice of the stranger. His gaze was curious, yet frightened. He'd never seen another Luminoth besides his two guardians.

"He's been altered, I see," U-Mos said, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"We thought it the only way to help him," I-Sil explained, though uncertain in her words.

U-Mos did not reply. Instead he merely analyzed the pirate from afar, silently taking note of his state of mind. He was afraid, he could sense that much. Confused; he was trying to piece together who U-Mos was and why he was here. But these simple thoughts were not enough to sate the Sentinel's suspicions.

"Do you mind if I examine him a bit closer?" he asked I-Sil. She nodded, unsure of how Kayleer would react. But she figured whatever it took to clear his name would be worth it, and so she did not hold U-Mos back.

Slowly, U-Mos approached Kayleer. The pirate's vigilant gaze widened, and he immediately stood up and backed away. He could feel some unseen pressure, an intangible force that pressed him from every angle. It only seemed to become more oppressive as the strange Luminoth drew closer.

U-Mos quickly noticed the effect he was having. He made an effort to suppress the aura he was putting out, but it did not seem to lessen the pirate's fears.

"_Kayleer," _U-Mos spoke gently, using the pirate's very sense of self to address him even though he did not yet know his real name. "_My name is U-Mos, and I am not here to harm you,"_ he assured him. He was only here to decide his fate, whether or not he would allow him to remain here.

The stranger loomed closer, his steps almost weightless against the stony ground. He moved like a spectre, and for a moment Kayleer questioned whether or not he was hallucinating. The oppressive air the stranger gave off was almost too heavy to bear, and Kayleer found himself pressing desperately against the wall, as though to escape. He felt as though the stranger would stop his heart with a single thought. His simple assurance had done nothing to calm him, for even during his first encounter with I-Sil he had not felt such a terrifying presence.

U-Mos was but an arm's-length from the pirate, who had been reduced to cowering the in the corner.

"_This will take but a moment, please do not be afraid." _He crouched down to meet the shorter creature, extending a hand to meet his forehead. The pirate's breathing had heightened to short, panicked breaths, and U-Mos could not help but feel bemused by the overreaction.

An almost-imperceptible tap of a finger was all Kayleer felt, but in that instant U-Mos saw everything he needed to about the pirate. He knew where he came from, and why he had left his own species. He could see how much he had changed since he had first encountered I-Sil. But most of all he could see the ethereal, the pirate's very soul, innocent and naive as it was, and U-Mos nearly laughed. T-Kev had thought this child a threat?

Yet beneath the pirate's sweet demeanor, U-Mos could sense something else. So obscure and hidden that even he could not fully detect it, lay something terribly dark. But just as quickly as it entered his senses, it was gone, lending not even a trace to track it. So brief was its presence that U-Mos decided it was nothing but an anomaly. He had seen all he needed, and broke away from the pirate's mind.

"_I sense no malice in you," _U-Mos said simply, standing up. He backed away, knowing the discomfort his presence afforded the pirate.

"So then, do you mean he can stay?" I-Sil inquired eagerly.

U-Mos pondered for a moment, then answered. "Yes, you may keep him under your care. I'm not sure I approve of you altering him, but I suppose there is no going back now. However," his tone became quite serious. "If his own species returns and demands you surrender him… I must ask that you comply."

I-Sil nodded. She understood that U-Mos would not allow Luminoth blood to be spilled for Kayleer's sake, and she would not object to his request.

With that, they exchanged bows. The Sentinel took his leave and left the pair in peace.


	8. Chapter 8 - Purpose

The place he had been brought to was beautiful, he found, once he stepped outside. The central temple was nearly always sunlit and bright, the weather under constant control. But the forest far beyond the temple was caught in a perpetual rainstorm that almost never stopped. Most of the Luminoth avoided the rain-wracked outer rim of Torvus, which made it the perfect sanctuary.

He found a few favorite spots in the bog; the roots of a wilting tree or an abandoned walkway. Somewhere quiet and secluded where he could think. He often lost track of time and ended up back home late at night.

He spent the longest time simply sitting and thinking, exploring the limits of his own intelligence. He found himself frustrated when he ran into those limits. He had complained, to U-Lir, and all he did was assure him that those limits would eventually dissipate. Patience was a valuable thing.

Eventually Kayleer found himself bored with his routines. He'd thought long enough to realize there was more to life than a constant cycle of thought and meditation. He craved purpose. Purpose wasn't something inborn, it was discovered. What was his?

I-Sil and U-Lir were no help on that front. They could only tell him what they did. I-Sil's expertise lay in medicine, a healer, long-experienced from the days of war on Aether. U-Lir was a geneticist, his science one that helped returned the biosphere to its pristine, unmutated form.

They were noble lines of work, but not something Kayleer could see himself doing. He remembered when he had first awoken; his fascination with his mechanical arm and his knee-jerk assumption that he had something to do with its crafting. The intricate array of wires, the perfectly-aligned sets of gears and pistons that allowed him to move it, so thoroughly intrigued him. A few times Kayleer had attempted to pick off the outer casing, just to have a peek inside, to know how it worked. He probably would have succeeded sooner were it not for the sharp spikes of pain the process elicited. It was a built-in way of reminding him that it was not merely a machine, but a part of him.

But despite such defensive measures, his curiosity one day managed to break it.

* * *

It was a bit of an embarrassing ordeal, having to get it fixed. There was only one person in Torvus who knew how to do it, and so he was given instructions and directions and sent off to find him. I-Sil wanted to accompany him, but U-Lir had insisted he go alone. If he was going to live among them, he would need to learn how to interact with others.

Kayleer was, for the first time, forced to walk among the Luminoth unaccompanied. He had avoided doing so for a very long time, for the very thought made him uncomfortable. He felt comically out of place, walking among giants. He felt inferior, unrecognized, and very self-conscious. He attracted stares, and he kept his gaze fixed downward, unwilling to answer their questioning eyes. Occasionally one would try to speak to him, but he kept them shut out. He stayed focused on where he was going and nothing else.

When he finally arrived at his destination, he wasn't any more certain how to go about interacting. V-Jme was a Luminoth, like any of the others he felt so dreadfully awkward around. But he needed his help. His left arm hung limply at the side, a pathetic reminder of his childish tampering. How was he going to explain this to the person who had so dutifully built it for him? Swallowing his pride he entered the lab and waited for the engineer to notice his presence.

Truth be told, Kayleer had not yet met V-Jme, and he did not know what he looked like. So he naturally assumed that the first one he met here would be him. This supposedly famous engineer was shorter than he expected. He looked young; far too young to be the seasoned expert he was said to be. The young Luminoth was quickly alerted to the stranger's presence, and looked up from his work, eyes wide.

Kayleer averted his gaze, unsure how to instigate the conversation. Lucky for him, the other did it for him.

"_Hey, aren't you that alien everyone's been talking about?"_

Surprised by being addressed as such, Kayleer met his gaze and looked confused. "But... don't you know me already? Aren't you V-Jme?"

The Luminoth laughed; he was flattered. "_Does this piece of junk look good enough to be his work? I wish,"_ he shook his head. "_No, I'm one of his apprentices. My name is A-Vei, what's yours?"_

"Kayleer," he answered quietly. "I'm looking for V-Jme."

A-Vei gave him a sideways glance and eyed his arm. He smiled when he saw what condition it was in. "_Oh wow, you really managed to bust it up, what did you do?"_ he asked, clearly amused. He'd never seen a prosthetic that looked as though it had been broken intentionally by its owner.

"Nevermind that, I just need him to fix me, do you know where he is?" Kayleer answered, unwilling to answer his question; he felt stupid enough as it was. But A-Vei clearly felt his embarrassment, and from that he could easily piece together the facts. Smirking slightly and suppressing a laugh, he pointed to a doorway to his left. Kayleer nodded in thanks and stepped through it, leaving the apprentice to his work.

The Luminoth in here was fiddling with a far-larger, more complex mechanoid. It stood on four legs with an opened dome at its center in which the Luminoth worked.

As was usual for them, the Luminoth immediately noticed Kayleer despite him having not made a sound nor sight. He looked down from his work, expression turning quite annoyed when he saw what had been done to his prosthetic. He leaped gracefully down from the mechanical creature and stepped over to Kayleer. Without asking permission, he knelt down and examined the arm, turning it over in his hands to evaluate its condition.

"_Well that didn't take you long, now did it?"_ he asked rhetorically. "_These don't break on their own, did you fall off a cliff? The rest of you looks fine. No, you did this to yourself. Why should I fix you, when you'll likely just break it again?" _

Kayleer looked down at the ground and failed to provide an answer. He was ashamed. Here after U-Lir had given him such vast intelligence, he still managed to do something so utterly, characteristically stupid. "I'm sorry," he blurted out, it was all he could say.

V-Jme's incriminating expression softened and he merely shook his head. "_What were you trying to do?"_ he asked, slightly less sarcastic. "_Did it itch? Hurt, even? Did it start moving on its own? That doesn't happen with __**my **__handiwork." _

"No, no none of that, I just..." Kayleer struggled for words. "I just wanted to know how it worked.." He looked back down at the ground and braced himself for more scolding. To his surprise, none came.

"_Oh, so that's it, how it works?" _V-Jme laughed, amused. "_You could've asked me, I could've shown you. You don't have to mutilate yourself,"_ he ended on a more serious note, stepping up and walking over to his workspace. He returned to Kayleer with a few tools in hand. "_Hold still."_

Swiftly and precisely, the engineer went about patching up his arm. Realigning all the gears the pirate had so carelessly disfigured, patching up the cracks and holes in the sheath he had made. So great was his skill that the entire process took less than fifteen minutes.

Once he was done, Kayleer tested it once more, moving the fingers and finding himself amazed by the quality of the repairs. It was as though it had never broken in the first place. He'd half expected to come here and have to be put out for a long, arduous surgery. This was a welcome surprise.

"Wow," he found himself muttering. He looked up at V-Jme. "Thank you."

The Luminoth waved his hand dismissively before returning to his workspace. That was a cue to go, Kayleer knew that much. So he turned around and prepared to leave.

"_Wait,"_ he heard V-Jme beckon him back. He turned around to see something glinting and metal fly towards him. Instinctively he caught it, and observed what he had received. It looked like his arm, very eerily identical, right down to the three, sharp pirate fingers. He was the only pirate here as far as he knew, why would he have made two?

"_It's the prototype,"_ V-Jme answered. "_It's something we make to test and fix so that the final product is optimal."_ The bulk of his explanation went right over Kayleer's head. "_Disassemble it to your heart's content."_

Kayleer was wholly surprised by the gesture, but didn't question it. He merely bowed his head in thanks and turned to go. A-Vei was still outside. He glanced at him, smiling. He had overheard.

"_I guess I'll have a lab buddy in a few days, huh?"_ he asked playfully.

Kayleer wasn't fully sure what he meant, but he smiled anyways. Working here certainly did seem inviting. Could he take more things apart?

"Guess so," he answered.


	9. Chapter 9 - Frustrations

The first few weeks, he had him disassemble things, then, build the same object from scratch. Simple machines, mostly. He wanted blueprints, schematics drawn solely from what he observed. V-Jme was a strict teacher, even though he insisted that Kayleer's workload was half what it was for any of his Luminoth apprentices.

U-Lir had given him a section of his lab to use as workspace. Datapads, half-scrawled schematics and note-ridden lightscribes littered the tiny, disorganized space. With every week came a new machine to work on, and Kayleer struggled to meet both deadlines and high expectations. He took his work very, very seriously. It was the only purpose he had ever known and so he allowed it to consume him.

Pirates didn't sleep, unlike Luminoth. Kayleer tried to use that to his advantage, working through days and nights without break. Despite no need for sleep, working in such a way was taking a toll. He often didn't get up to eat and didn't even take notice when he was hungry. Unbeknownst to him, such things only inhibited his ability to work.

Concerned for his well-being, I-Sil visited him one night in his workspace, trying to convince him to take a break. It had been three days since he had even left the lab, and she hated to see him so isolated. His head was in his hands and he had stopped, if only momentarily. Clearly he had run into a block.

He was quickly aware of being watched, and allowed himself the briefest of breaks to greet her.

"What is it?" he asked.

I-Sil was relieved that she got even that. She knew how obsessed he had been lately, and she had half expected to be ignored. She knew he wouldn't approve of what she was about to say, but she didn't let it stop her.

"_I can feel your stress all the way from our quarters,"_ she began. "_Please, take a break."_

He turned back to his desk and brushed her off, viewing her concern as nothing but a petty hindrance to his progress. "I can't," he answered simply.

I-Sil could see that she wouldn't get any response from talking, so she tried something else. She tried to imbue him with her own emotions, trying to change his mind. Kayleer's eyes began to glaze as he felt himself overcome with a feeling of calmness. His mind began to wander, to lose focus and doze off.

He realized what she was doing fast enough to stop it, shaking his head and snorting in abject annoyance, returning to his previous state.

"Don't do that," he warned, inklings of anger in his voice. I-Sil felt the abrasive turn in his words and flinched in surprise. He had never acted like this to her before.

Though hurt, she respected his decision and left him alone.

Kayleer sighed. He was frustrated. With work, with this damned machine, and now with I-Sil. He couldn't stop thinking about it all, his thoughts filled with anxieties. What if he didn't finish in time? What if he made a mistake? What if he failed? What if... I-Sil was right?

The onslaught of worries seemed very similar, he realized, to that which he had experienced when he first woke up. They were starting to get to him, and familiar feelings of panic were beginning to seed themselves. It finally dawned on him; how long _had _it been since he'd had a break? Since he'd sat in the rain? Since he'd experienced the calming tranquility of meditation? I-Sil was right, he never should have doubted that. He never should have shown so much loathing, when she was only trying to help. He would need to apologize to her, later. Right now he decided the best thing he could do was to take a long, well-deserved break. Work could wait.


	10. Chapter 10 - Visitors

Two sleek, blue ovals stared out from a hollow head. Just a casing; it was for aesthetics, mostly. The real focus was the inside; circuits and breadboards, steel joints and synthetic tendons. All came together to form a body, legs, a curious sort of animatronic creature. Kayleer was far from finished, though he'd started the basic work on it almost two years ago. It was a nice change from the assignments in his earlier years; a self-guided project, with very loose parameters to work from. There was freedom, he could build anything he wanted. The only downside was how much weighed on it.

It was a dissertation, of sorts. If he passed, his apprenticeship would end and he would be a fully fledged engineer. If he failed, he would have to try again, with a new project. Two years of work would be wasted.

Almost a decade had elapsed since the day when V-Jme had so casually thrown him that mechanical arm. Training took a long time, as did most things in Luminoth culture. It was one of the consequences of their longevity. Kayleer used to find himself quite frustrated with this; he was impatient. But the longer he lived, the more patience he gained. Nevertheless, failure was a very real threat, one which he still had trouble contending.

"So, what's it do again?" A-Vei asked, chiming in Aetherian. The days had long passed when Kayleer needed mental translation; spoken words came naturally now, both to and from him.

"It fixes things," he answered, trying to garner focus despite the thoroughly distracting presence of his friend.

"Uhuh, so like the prosthetic of an overly curious alien?"

"If it finds one, yes," Kayleer said jokingly. He hadn't broken his arm again since that one day so long ago, and yet it clung in both their memories; it was the day they'd first met. First impressions lasted, he supposed.

The inner body was nearing completion, wirey and ungainly as it was without its protective outer shell. It would need to be streamlined, to avoid entanglement of any kind, especially when inside another, larger machine. Kayleer's proposal had been simple; a personal maintenance unit. Maintenance robots existed already, certainly, but were often specialized to patch up parts for a single, large structure. Kayleer's creation would have a memory equipped with schematics and blueprints for over 15,000 known machines, and would be able to effectively repair any of them. An efficient and versatile model that would be able to operate on a huge number of other machines.

"I just uploaded the layout of your thesis machine, that's another thing it will be able to repair," Kayleer said, a hint of jealousy in his voice. A-Vei had already passed, earning his title as a Master. His had been a pollutant-purging pod that he let loose in Agon, the area of the last phazon reserves. There it had consumed nearly every particle of the stuff present on Aether's surface, and the supply of phazon had dwindled to nearly nothing. As a result, the pirates stationed there had long since abandoned. His creation had been so successful that many models were made and dispersed throughout Aether.

"Hm, that would be useful, I suppose, if anything I built ever broke," A-Vei said, mockingly conceited.

"You're even starting to _sound_ like V-Jme," Kayleer laughed.

"Careful, he has eyes and ears everywhere, and unlike me you still need to be on his good side if you want to pass," A-Vei joked, gesturing his hands menacingly.

He laughed good naturedly, ignoring the taunt. "I'll pass, don't worry," Kayleer said confidently.

"I'm not the one who's worrying," he retorted. "When I did mine, I took my time. I spaced out work and I took days off. I went _outside._ There's no rush you know, there isn't a deadline for this."

"I know," Kayleer answered simply. He was right, he knew, but Kayleer didn't like taking breaks.

"You _should_ take a day off, soon, you know, we'll be having visitors. Friendly ones, for once," A-Vei said excitedly.

"I would hardly call the Federation friendly," Kayleer said coldly.

"They're only coming to "establish relations,", help out, gather information, that's all," A-Vei quoted.

"Yeah? What do you think that means? They're at war, they want weapons, they want our technology," he spat pessimistically.

"U-Mos made his position on that clear; they get nothing. They can visit, talk, investigate prior pirate activity, and leave, that's it."

"What we give them does not matter, they will still want."

A-Vei only shrugged. "I think we can handle it," he looked off into the sky, seeming to contemplate something. "Well anyways, I'm curious to meet a human, aren't you?"

"Not even a little," Kayleer answered dully. "Besides, they hate pirates." He wasn't entirely sure how much like a pirate he still looked, but he certainly didn't look like a Luminoth, and he never fully would.

A-Vei sighed. "You're so boring sometimes."

"Boring gets work done," he retorted, fiddling with a circuit and making sure it was in its proper place.

"Then why'd I finish first?" A-Vei asked slyly.

"You started sooner."

"Right, how much sooner, exactly? Was it two weeks? And I finished months ago," he taunted.

Kayleer sighed, thoroughly peeved. "Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Yes, to convince you to try something new for once."

Kayleer growled. He didn't want to. But his friend was relentless and it was only due to his constant nagging that he finally gave in. The Federation would land in two days, and he would be there.


	11. Chapter 11 - Federation

A-Vei startled him from his meditating with an obnoxious blast of excited emotion. Kayleer opened his eyes and glared at him, annoyed. No matter how his friend tried to share his feelings, Kayleer would never feel them. But, as he had promised, he would accompany him as the aliens made planetfall.

"I brought you something," A-Vei said. He held out his hand to reveal something spherical and metallic, with deep, defining groves on its surface. Kayleer hadn't the slightest idea what it was.

"What is it?"

"Well, I got to thinking earlier that you won't be able to say much to humans, considering you don't speak their language. And you can't," A-Vei paused, searching for words. "Well, you can't do what we do, yet."

"Yes, thank you for reminding me," it was one of his biggest peeves, when A-Vei pointed out his inadequacies; of the finer, more advanced Luminoth abilities he was lacking.

"But that's what this is for," A-Vei said excitedly. "I made it, it's a translator. It'll turn Aetherian into human language. Just put it on your jaw and it'll translate words as they come out, pretty convenient, huh?"

"If you think that's going anywhere near my face, you're crazy," he responded, perfectly serious.

"Oh come on, how else are you going to talk humans out of trying to kill you? You are a pirate, after all," A-Vei chided.

"Forget it, I'm not going," Kayleer shot back. He had enough apprehensions about meeting humans as it was and A-Vei certainly wasn't helping.

"Wait! Alright alright I'm sorry, but look, I realized you might have trouble communicating so I went and _made_ you this. At least try it."

Kayleer sighed, exasperated. Why was he so desperate to get him to do this? "Fine," he surrendered, and took the tiny metal object from him. "How does it work again?"

"Just put it like... Just bite it," A-Vei explained in simplified terms. "It'll do the rest."

Reluctantly Kayleer obeyed, clamping the tiny thing firmly in his mandibles. Instantly it reacted, the tiny sphere expanded, shooting out wires and joints. It lodged itself into the roof of his mouth while two tiny wires worked their way outwards, towards his ears. He could feel it taking up space and nearly touching his throat. Truth be told, it was quite painful. He roared in shock and grabbed at it for a moment, but the process ended quickly and so did the pain. He shook his head and gave A-Vei an angry expression.

"No warning, I had _no warning _for that! What's wrong with you?!"

"Ohhh yeah, you have nerves in your jaw, don't you," A-Vei shrugged.

Typical, it was so typical of him to do something like this. Kayleer was fuming now, but he soon put it to rest. Getting mad at A-Vei was pointless. The pain was gone, anyways, that was all that mattered.

"It's thought activated, so just think about speaking human and it'll make human come out, simple as that," A-Vei continued, unabated.

Kayleer brushed him off and started walking. A-Vei knew he was mad, but instead of empathizing he merely smiled, filled with mirth. But Kayleer knew he hadn't intended for it to be painful, so he forgave him, and the two started walking towards the central temple.

* * *

The Federation ship had just dropped through the atmosphere and made a neat landing in the center of the temple. U-Mos was already there waiting for them. If he was here to oversee the event, it must be a big deal, Kayleer thought to himself. He and A-Vei decided to make do with watching from a distance, for now.

The sleek, silver ship opened its hull and extended a ramp. A strange, pale-skinned creature topped with black hair was the first to emerge, followed by seven others clad in armor. Armor; they were soldiers, they carried weapons in their hands. If Kayleer hadn't had prior context, he would have thought this an invasion.

But there were only seven of them, and their weapons were to their sides. As the one in lead made his way over to U-Mos, he stopped, and raised his right hand to his forehead. The soldiers followed suit. U-Mos responded with a bow. An exchange of greetings.

The humans dropped their salutes and the one in front was the first to speak.

"U-Mos, right? Good to meet you," he bellowed, offering his hand. What did that gesture mean? U-Mos seemed to know, as he took the much-smaller hand in his own and shook it. To Kayleer's surprise, he understood the words that came from the human. A-Vei's little creation translated it straight to Aetherian which resonated soundly in his ears.

"_And you, Councilman Markeley,"_ U-Mos answered, he eyed the squadron behind him suspiciously, noticing their guns. They were attached to the arms of their suits and so could not be disarmed without removing the armor. He shook his head. Those suits may be standard, but he did not approve that they carried weapons. "_I had hoped you would come unarmed."_

"These are for our own protection, in case we get chased down by pirates," he insisted. "And I remind you that Aether was formerly home to both pirates and phazon."

Pirates, phazon, and Ing, U-Mos remembered with a shudder. But the humans didn't need to know about that. "_Both those problems have been dealt with,"_ U-Mos stated firmly.

"None of my men will point a weapon at your Luminoth," he responded, assuring him.

U-Mos paused for a moment, looking the soldiers over. Unbeknownst to them, he was scoping them out, searching for signs of insincerity.

"_You do not lie,"_ U-Mos said, satisfied. "_Though one of your men seems to not take you seriously," _he cast a stern look at the soldier directly behind him, who toddled uncomfortably on his feet.

The human was insulted, frankly, that U-Mos would doubt the integrity of any one of his men. But an argument was the last thing he wanted to start here. "I'll keep my men in line, Sir, just worry about yours."

"_I will speak with you in absence of your soldiers,"_ U-Mos stated sternly, unwilling to budge on that front. The Councilman nodded and allowed himself to be led away into the temple.

His escort seemed confused, having been left outside. But one took quick advantage of the situation. He popped open his visor and smiled at his team. "Well, job's on hold til he comes out, so you guys can relax," he said. He rested his arm cannon against his shoulder and walked back onto the ship. One more followed him, while the other five remained outside. The atmosphere dissipated almost immediately from high strung to casual, and it made everyone breathe a little easier. The observing Luminoth felt at ease to approach the soldiers, bowing in greeting and instigating conversations.

"They feel weird," A-Vei said suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

"Their emotions, so volatile. When U-Mos picked out that one soldier, he knew what he was talking about. I swear that guy didn't like being around U-Mos _at all._ Or any of us. All of the humans are just so... undisciplined. They don't hold anything back, you can see right through them whether you want to or not," A-Vei explained. Kayleer didn't understand much. He wasn't a full empath, yet, but he understood the gist of what his friend was saying. Humans were non-empaths. They couldn't feel and reciprocate each others' emotions like Luminoth could, so it made sense that they had no ability to hide or mediate them. If they had come in high enough numbers, probably no Luminoth would be able to stand being near them.

A-Vei interrupted his thoughts with a mischievous laugh. "I wanna talk to them. The VIPs are gone, so we can get closer."

"I think I'll stay up here and watch, thanks," Kayleer said stubbornly, leaning against the stony wall. Now that he knew the humans had come here armed, he was all the more reluctant to chance going near them.

A-Vei shook his head and sighed. "Suit yourself," and with that he took the lift down to the ground level of the temple, where the humans and their ship were waiting.

Kayleer watched as A-Vei freely struck up a chat with one of the soldiers. The visor of this one's helmet had popped open, revealing a dark-skinned face with two black eyes to match. The other beside him looked quite different, with pale skin and softer features. He noticed that one looked different from any of the other soldiers; very fundamentally so. The voice the soldier emitted was of higher register as well. Kayleer found the diversity between the individual creatures fascinating.

Without fully realizing it, Kayleer had indeed become intrigued by the visiting aliens, and found himself taking mental note of all their interactions. His gaze flickered as he squinted his eyes, a bright reflected light disturbing his line of sight. Something glinted in his periphery and demanded his attention.

A large metal rifle, peeking out through one of the ship's open ports. It froze in its position, and Kayleer realized he was staring right down the barrel.


	12. Chapter 12 - Abduction

Instinctively Kayleer dove. It didn't matter where, which direction, he just needed to move! The weapon made a resounding, sharp pang that rocked through the temple walls. Kayleer heard the ear-splitting sound of something sharp and deadly breaking the sound barrier as it whizzed by him, just barely missing his head.

"PIRATE!"

It took a full second for him to realize what had happened. He looked up again to see the sniper adjusting his position; getting ready to fire again. Somehow Kayleer doubted he would miss a second time. He could do nothing but run and hope his movements were enough to throw him off.

Another shot; this one clipped him in the leg. He roared in pain and stumbled over the handrail, falling to the ground floor of the temple. He hit the floor hard, his heart was racing and he was terrified. He couldn't move, and he waited for one final shot.

"Adelaide! Are you out of your goddamn mind?!" the commander screamed at the top of his lungs, wrestling the rogue marine out of his sniper nest and throwing him roughly against the wall.

"Sir! There was a pirate standing watch inside the temple, fucking moths are allied with them, I know it," he yelled in defense.

"Pirate?" that piqued the commander's interest.

A woman's voice spiked through their communicators, "Affirmative sir, Anderson and I just saw him fall to the lower level, we're moving in on him."

She held her gun at the ready and ran towards the pirate. He looked injured from the fall, struggling to sit up, pushing his back against a wall and growling quietly.

Her teammate followed suit, rushing ahead and jumping on the pirate before he had the chance to draw a weapon. Before the pirate could react, the marine had him pressed down against the wall, arm cannon aimed straight at his face.

Terrified for his life, Kayleer did the only thing he could think of.

"DON'T SHOOT!"

"What?" The marine remained atop the pirate, suppressing him against the temple wall. Yet his grip slackened just the tiniest of bits as he grappled with his confusion.

The other marine gave the pirate an incriminating glare, "I think this thing can talk," she said, surprised.

"Of course I can talk!" Kayleer blurted, second-naturedly speaking in human tongue. The translator had just ended up saving his life after all.

That just seemed to confuse the human more, but at the very least she did not raise her weapon.

"Shendra, what are you doing? Finish the thing before it calls for reinforcements! That is an order," the commander's voice blasted in her ear.

"_Your entire species is crazy!"_ Kayleer heard A-Vei call. His friend rushed to his side, offering him a hand. The two marines quickly backed off. They had been ordered to show no hostility towards the Luminoth, and now it seemed they had two commands conflicting. Kayleer had never been so relieved to see a familiar face. He graciously accepted the outstretched hand and stood up. He was bleeding, bruised, but not seriously injured, and for that he considered himself incredibly lucky. He'd almost been killed.

The other marines began to approach them, and A-Vei put himself between them and Kayleer.

"_Back off,"_ he spat.

The marines seemed unsure how to respond. The sniper from before raised a weapon to A-Vei, he was ready to take him down without a problem.

"Stand down, Stevens," his commander issued an order, putting his hand on the rifle and pushing it downwards. The one called 'Stevens' complied.

All the commotion had drawn U-Mos and the human leader forth from the temple. The black-haired human seemed just as surprised as any of the soldiers, the tell-tale signs of suspicion and hate inching their way into his expression. He said nothing, as he hadn't a clue how to respond.

"Keep an eye on these two," the commander said, before making his way over to the Councilman. "Sir, we found an unarmed pirate snooping around the temple. The thing appears mutated, and can speak. The Luminoth are defending it," was his simple, concise report.

The Councilman turned his gaze to U-Mos. "With all due respect, can you offer me an explanation as to why you are harboring a pirate? I thought they had gone from Aether, as was a condition for opening up relations between our species," the Councilman said as calmly as he could.

U-Mos looked at Kayleer and A-Vei. He had given U-Lir and I-Sil his blessing, but he had not anticipated this.

"_Kayleer's original species is of no consequence. He is one of us,"_ he answered.

"That doesn't answer our question," one of the soldiers yelled angrily. It was Stevens. "Why is there a pirate here? Was he part of some sort of mutant program you freaks were trying to run? Or maybe some augmentation program the pirates commissioned you for? That's it isn't it, you furry freaks are helping them build soldiers!" the heat of his unrestrained anger was enough to make every Luminoth in the temple flinch in discomfort.

"We need to take him into custody, maybe he can shed some light on what the pirates were doing here," the commander said calmly, thinking ahead.

A-Vei answered this time, "_Kayleer ran from his people because he hated them as much as you do, and we gave him a home, that's it! What kind of nonsense is this, Luminoth aiding the pirate war effort? You're out of your mind!"_

"Insult me again moth-boy, see what happens," Stevens answered harshly, pointing a rifle at his face.

"_I'm not afraid of you. What's wrong? Can't respond so you let your gun do the talking?"_

Another marine rushed to hold back Stevens. He let a missed plasma round fly into the sky as he shouted swears and threats in A-Vei's direction.

"ENOUGH!" Kayleer screamed, his voice echoing in both Aetherian and English. He pushed past A-Vei and made his way boldly up to the Councilman. He looked him in the eye and spoke with a passion, "Take me, if you must, I will answer your questions. Please," he looked back at A-Vei and the others, "just leave the Luminoth in peace, that is all I ask." And it was true. Kayleer would gladly lay down his life if it meant stopping another war from ensuing on Aether. Relations with the Federation were tenuous enough as it was; thinking there was a pirate-Luminoth alliance in the works would certainly tip the balance of peace.

The Councilman hesitated, before finally giving his order.

"Take the pirate to the ship," he said at last. Two marines grabbed Kayleer by his arms and dragged him onto the ship. It was wholly unnecessary, as Kayleer would have gone willingly, but the marines were clearly not used to cooperation. "The Federation will return to negotiate... when I'm satisfied there is no alliance," the Councilman said darkly. What would happen then, if Kayleer couldn't put his suspicions to rest?

He looked behind once, taking one last look at his people, at Aether, before being dragged into the dark, foreboding human ship.


	13. Chapter 13 - Prisoner

Kayleer had never left Aether before. He didn't know what he expected space flight to feel like. Would it make him nauseous? To his relief, he felt at ease even as the ship took off from the surface and shot into space. It was as though he were already used to it.

He had never been a prisoner before. It was only now that he was beginning to appreciate all the wonderful freedom he had been allowed since his short days as a slave. He could go where he wanted, explore the rainy forest or the many temples scattered around it. He could build, disassemble machines. Being locked in a cell came as a sudden, and very staggering change. But there was always one thing Kayleer could fall back on, one thing that could never be taken from him.

He did not complain. He did not show anger. All he did was sit calmly in his cell, legs folded beneath him, eyes closed in thought, waiting. It troubled him, this sense of passivity, but when he weighed his options it was certainly the best one, despite the feeling of discomfort it afforded him. He wished he could do more to help his own situation.

He was startled from his meditation by words outside. Two humans were talking.

"The hell is he doing?"

"Don't ask me," the other shrugged.

"I think he's going all zen on us," the human laughed. "Ohhhmmm, ohmmmmm, ohmmm," he mocked.

"Shut up you two, this isn't funny."

"Really? Mutant pirate shows up, soils negotiations, Luminoth don't know what the fuck's going on..." he seemed to fill with mirth from the chaos that had happened on Aether. "It is _kinda_ funny."

"You think this is some kind of joke? Do you know what a horrible record the Federation has trying to form peaceful relations with other species? What is it, three, four races? The rest hate us, they avoid us altogether or do as the pirates do and try to kill us," the woman's voice echoed through the ship. "This was a chance to finally change that record, maybe make humans look a little better in the face of the galaxy. But you," she spat harshly. "Adelaide you fucking moron, you went and ruined everything! It's people like you that start wars!"

"Whoa-oa, that escalated quickly, didn't it?"

Shendra shook her head, utterly disgusted.

"Come on, Shendra, calm down," Adelaide said condescendingly. He stood up and walked over to her. He tapped her on the shoulder and looked her in the eye. "They're just aliens, so stop throwing a fit."

Shendra took that moment to slap him square in the cheek. Lucky for her, both their visors were up and she made contact with his face rather than a helmet. He winced in pain, clutching his face.

"Fucking hell, what's wrong with you, woman?!"

Shendra walked angrily out of the prison room. The other marine followed her.

"You can keep guard alone," was the last, snide thing she said before leaving.

Kayleer found himself laughing quietly. The one called Adelaide had been the one to try and kill him, after all, and now he lay broken in the corner, having been thoroughly put down by another of his species. Unfortunately for him, he heard him laughing.

"You think something's funny, pirate?"

Kayleer closed his eyes and returned to his thoughts, hoping the human would ignore him. Sadly, it didn't look as though that were happening.

The human knocked roughly on the blue hard light that closed off his cell. "I know you understand me, asshole, talk back."

"I do not want to further our conflict, human," Kayleer replied simply. Truth be told, he wasn't afraid. The wall that trapped him also protected him from the alien outside.

"Tch," the human spat. "Don't worry, the interrogators will put your smart allec mouth in line."

Kayleer sighed. What a mess. I-Sil and U-Lir had no doubt been informed. He wished he had been more careful. He wished he could have said goodbye. He wished he had some way of knowing what was going to happen to him, to Aether...

It was a matter of waiting now. Waiting to hear. Kayleer nodded off into meditation and truthfully lost track of time. Then, he heard footsteps. Another marine entered the prison room and spoke to Adelaide. It was the one who had slapped him earlier. Good, Kayleer liked that one.

"Switch off watch duty, commander's orders," she said concisely. The other marine didn't say anything, nor did he make eye contact. He simply up and left, pushing past her without a word. The female took his place as the doors slid closed behind him.

She didn't seem as talkative as her more volatile comrade, but Kayleer knew her to be of a far more agreeable nature. Now was an opportunity to glean information.

"Can you tell me where we are going?" Kayleer inquired, keeping his voice quiet and calm. He didn't want to sound too demanding.

She glanced at him, hesitant. She had never spoken to a pirate before; the two species usually did not communicate at all. But what reason was there not to respond, now?

"The G.F.S. Olympus," she muttered quietly. "About five hours away." She did not look at him when she spoke, preferring instead to look at the ground.

At least he wasn't travelling too far, he thought. He observed the marine. The difference between her and the one before was staggering, and he found himself fascinated by that fact. From what he had seen, humans were violent, paranoid people, but this one seemed different.

"Shendra," he quoted, remembering what she had been called earlier. "Right?"

She looked at him, wholly surprised to have been called by her name. She didn't answer him. Pirates didn't speak, they roared. They didn't ask questions, they demanded. They didn't meditate, they kicked and clawed and screamed death threats. Just what was this creature?

"What are you?" she asked, thoroughly confused, her brow furrowing in apprehension.

Kayleer laughed, trying to lighten the mood. Truth be told, he wasn't entirely certain how to answer the question. She didn't seem to share his optimism, and did not respond.

No matter what he said, what he sounded or looked like, he was still a pirate. Pirates killed humans, and vice versa. It had been that way for as long as Shendra could remember. It was hard for her to let go of her animosity, even in the face of so different an enemy.

Kayleer tried to understand why the humans had done what they did. Pirates were at war with them, that much he knew. Certainly in a war it paid to be distrustful, a sad fact indeed. Kayleer was so used to living in a world where virtually everyone trusted one another. He had never seen a Luminoth do violence unto another Luminoth, but humans seemed to do it so freely. It was no surprise then, that a species that would harm its own was capable of throwing an innocent person in prison.

But Kayleer did not give up. There was still much he wanted to know. He was afraid for his people and for his life, and he needed to understand what was going to happen. So he attempted to gain the human's trust.

"I had never seen humans, before you came," he said quietly. "If that means anything to you. I have never held a weapon, and I have never killed."

"Yeah?" Shendra asked rhetorically. "I wish I could believe that." As far as she was concerned, he was a pirate and there was no such thing as a civilian pirate. They all, in one way or another, contributed to the war-mongering efforts of High Command. Shendra was a soldier, she had killed many of his kind, and though she would be the first to admit he was a bit different, he was what he was.

Her words hurt and Kayleer decided not to speak anymore. It was pointless. The human's hatred was too deeply rooted to be taken down by mere words. Soon she left, replaced by another marine, and then another. They switched off, giving each other breaks, distributing work to help one another. Soon the hours were up, and they arrived at their destination.

The small ship docked inside something far more massive. The space-borne equivalent of an aircraft carrier, and an important base of operations for the Federation.

Kayleer heard the marines return to his cell and open it. As the shield fell, they raised their weapons, prepared to deal with any hostility he had to offer. He did nothing, once more, and allowed himself to be cuffed and led away onto the Olympus.


	14. Chapter 14 - Interrogation

"All I know is that they were mining it, I don't know anything else, I swear!" Kayleer practically yelled. The interrogation had been going on for hours and the only answers he could give were ones they saw as useless.

The Federation wanted to know how the pirates were utilizing phazon, and more importantly, where they could find more.

During the first reconnaissance, investigating their lost task force, the Federation had discovered phazon on Aether. Unaware of its potential, they only took small samples, leaving the planet with most of its stores intact. A mistake on their part, for the pirates quickly returned and established a new mining operation. In order to preserve Aether's neutrality, the Federation had held off from intervening.

But the presence of phazon in the pirates' army had tipped the scales of war. Their forces, from what Kayleer could glean, had grown in power and severity ever since the mining operations had started. The Federation was desperate to even the balance.

Truth be told, Kayleer would have told them everything if he only knew. All he wanted at this point was to go home.

"Admiral, he was found on Aether recently, the mining operations were discontinued months ago. Maybe he really did defect as he claims."

The one he had addressed intertwined his fingers and stared at the pirate from across the table. "We can't give up, this is one of the only captured pirates who didn't _kill himself _before we could get answers," the Admiral huffed, clearly frustrated. "He can't be just a dead end." His men were dying, the war turning in the pirates' favor. If just one could give them the answers they needed, perhaps they could gain the upper hand.

The Admiral turned his gaze to Kayleer. Throughout the interrogation, he had come to respect that there was something different about this pirate. Clearly the Luminoth had done something very profound to change him. He had divulged as much information as he could, and was strangely cooperative for someone of his species. His story made him look very innocent indeed. The Admiral did plan on letting him go free, and he would be more inclined to do so if he got the information he wanted. The pirate had started life in the mines, and he fixated on that fact.

"You were mining phazon, correct?"

"Yes," Kayleer said, exasperated. How many times was he going to ask that?

"And you don't know what they were using it for, or where else they were mining it."

"It was corrosive, so perhaps they used it as fuel," Kayleer shook his head, trying to recall information that simply wasn't there. "And I have no idea if it exists anywhere other than Aether. It came to us on a meteorite, but from where we do not know."

Phazon, phazon, that's all he wanted to know about. Kayleer knew nothing about it and he was just as frustrated as the Admiral. It mutated things, it had done that on Aether. It was explosive, so it could be used as fuel. What about it was so interesting?

The Admiral turned to his fellow interrogator, a shorter man clad in a helmetless armorsuit. "Maybe this one is recycled," he said quietly, making a quick gesture with his hand. The other man nodded in understanding and left the room.

Kayleer shot the Admiral a quizzical expression. What was he talking about?

"What do you mean by that?"

He seemed not to notice his question, but Kayleer knew he heard.

"Admiral, please," he reasoned. "I will cooperate if you simply tell me."

He sighed, wiping his hand on his face. "Look, Kayleer, was it? I respect you, and the Luminoth. Now your story, it's far-fetched but I believe it," he admitted. "Some slaves, are... reused. Once a soldier or commander becomes useless, they get demoted, and get remade as pirate slaves," he explained.

"What? But I don't, I don't remember ever being anything else," Kayleer laughed nervously. "I was new, I've never..." he struggled for words. The Admiral's explanation thoroughly shocked him and it made him scared. He looked down and fidgeted with his fingers. Was it possible that he used to be someone else entirely? No, no of course it wasn't. "I would remember, wouldn't I?"

The Admiral shrugged. "Maybe we can help you remember, or see if there's anything there at all. If you let us try, you can go free."

Kayleer didn't like being given ultimatums, but he could see the human was desperate. He seemed genuine enough, and Kayleer himself was desperate to go home, so he reluctantly agreed.

The assistant returned and placed some sort of cube-shaped machine on the table. Two marines followed him into the interrogation room.

"Pirates usually do a sloppy job of this, leave a lot left unpurged and just cover everything up," the Admiral explained, drawing a needle-tipped wire from the machine. "This," he motioned to it, "Was adapted from the same technology they use to do it."

Kayleer narrowed his gaze, observing it. He was having second thoughts, naturally. "Will it have a permanent effect?"

"No, the memories should only last as long as the procedure."

Kayleer wasn't convinced. "How many pirates have you used it on, before?"

The Admiral looked unsure. "One," he said simply, unwilling to go into more detail. "But keep in mind, most pirates don't let themselves be taken prisoner in the first place."

He could see he wasn't going to get any more out of him. Kayleer sighed. "You will return me to Aether, once this is all over?"

"You have my word," he promised.

Kayleer nodded affirmatively. One of the men unlatched the wire from the machine and came towards him.

"It… goes into the back of the head. All pirates have a small defunct port there, from previous programming," he explained, motioning with his hands.

Hesitantly, Kayleer bowed his head. He growled as he felt a spike of pain penetrate the back of his skull.

He didn't know what to expect. From what he had been told, it was possible there was a part of him, something that came before his life as a slave, that he had never known. He was curious, yet deathly afraid. He was almost sure they would find nothing.

Sadly, more than that awaited him. It came as a slow flow of realization. Of new memories that didn't seem to be his own.

"Unit... 215," he began, stammering. "Science Team?"

"A scientist? That's perfect! What did you do?"

"Tallon, I was stationed on Tallon IV. That was where- we first discovered phazon. It was incredible," Kayleer gasped. His eyes bolted open and he lost his focus.

"You just had it," the Admiral said, frustrated. "Try again," he motioned to the proctor.

"Wait, I-" Kayleer felt it more strongly this time, his words cut off. His eyes clamped shut once more and he shook his head.

"What were you using the phazon for?" he heard him ask.

"Augmentation, it could make a growing pirate have a mass increase of 2000%, it mutated, it gave them unimaginable strength, but-," Kayleer's eyes opened again and the memories faded. He felt struck by an aching pain and clutched his head. "I'm sorry..."

"Dammit! Not now, we're so close," he motioned again to the proctor to increase the amplitude.

Again Kayleer shut his eyes and felt the strain against his mind. The memories came not in a flow now but a rush, uncontained and chaotic. Visions of phazon-mutated monstrosities, of the first samples being collected and used on wildlife, before being consumed by pirates. War, weapons, dead pirates and humans littering scarred battlegrounds. The images horrified him, pushing him into a panic.

"Stop!" he cried, but it was too late. Something inside him snapped. He was past panic now, and his eyes flared open. He could feel the presence of something new. Volatile, angry emotions, fear and hatred. He roared, infuriated, and Kayleer felt his weak will pushed aside by something stronger. The words that came from him now were not Aetherian nor English, they were Urtraghian.

"What did those bastards do to me, I'll kill them!" he roared, taking out his anger on the nearest object. He gashed out a mark on the table with his mechanical arm. It was only then he took notice of the Admiral. "Human?" he growled in disbelief. He hissed once before lunging at him. The Admiral had expected this, that was why he had requested two armed marines to be present. They grabbed him and held him back. He struggled, but his body was far weaker than he remembered and he found himself easily suppressed.

He growled in frustration, turning his gaze back to the Admiral. "Come a little closer so I can tear your throat out," he spat menacingly, flashing his fangs.

"Now that's the pirate I want to talk to," the Admiral said calmly, speaking into a translator. He was seemingly unfazed by his dangerous change in demeanor. "Unit 215, was it?"

"I'll tell you nothing, human filth," he snarled.

"Fine, then you can go back to hiding beneath that slave's mind."

That seemed to pique the pirate's attention. "Slave?" He took a moment to realize that he was different than he remembered. Weaker, so snivelling and weak, his voice less deep, predatory eyesight so greatly reduced. The last thing he remembered was being forced into a stasis tube by his comrades. They had refused to listen to his warnings. Finally it dawned on him; he had been recommissioned as a slave. As a brainless, meager-bodied slave. He took it as a blasphemous insult to his previous prestige. He roared again, lamenting the injustice that had been done to him.

"Those fools," he cried to no one. "They dig their own graves!" he roared.

"What do you mean?"

The pirate had almost forgotten his present company. "Shut your filthy maw," he snorted, spitting in the Admiral's direction. This pirate was particularly uncooperative, and the Admiral could see he wasn't going to get answers the traditional way.

"Knock him out."

The last thing the pirate was aware of was an almost utterly painless injection to the back of his neck, and everything went black.


	15. Chapter 15 - Confession

"Unit 215, we grow impatient, what do you have to report?"

The pirate became aware and alert again. He was in a lab, surrounded by vats of phazon. He didn't see any of the test subjects he was working on... what room was he in again?

"UNIT 215!" the voice roared again. The pirate looked up to a monitor with an impatient member of High Command looking down on him.

"Sir!" he cried, utterly surprised. "Please excuse my impudence, what do you request?"

"Typical for Science Team to be so utterly incompetent. I asked for your latest report regarding phazon testing."

"Phazon..." the pirate began to remember. "Yes, with all due respect, my Superior, I propose we cease all phazon projects indefinitely."

"What? I hope you have evidence to back up your mad proposal."

"I do," the pirate seemed hesitant for he knew High Command would not approve. "As I previously reported, phazon functions as an unparalleled steroid as well as a fuel. In that regard, it has given us an advantage."

"Yes, of course, then why do you even dare to suggest its discontinuation?"

"I have found something troubling; as we continue to infect ourselves, we aid the evolution of the parasite. It grows, it steals the minds of its host. Phazon madness is decreasing, which seemed at first to be a good thing. But," he explained, "it staves off the madness in favor of controlling its host. We've made the thing intelligent! Every body it infects becomes a slave," he spoke with ardor. "If we continue to use it on our troops, it will only make us stronger to serve its own vile purpose. We will not be able to control the infected for much longer; they will become nothing but assimilated fodder," he finished with a sinister snarl.

"Your opinion is noted, Unit 215. Do you have anything else to report?"

The pirate seemed exasperated, feeling as though his warnings were seen as nothing but idealistic dribble. "Nothing since my last reviews on the test subjects," he replied.

"Yes, why don't you tell me about those?"

"Sir, I submitted those reports on schedule, last quarter as requested."

"I request a verbal report now."

"What?" The question was very uncharacteristic of High Command. They did not ask for specifics like test results to be discussed personally. This was strange, something was wrong. Out of the corner of his eye, the pirate noticed the tiniest sliver of light inch its way across the lab. He moved forward to investigate and felt the tug of something from the back of his head. He reached a hand there to feel a cord. He turned around, shocked to find it trailed off and ended in mid-air, with seemingly no source.

The pirate roared, quickly realizing he had been duped. He pulled the cord towards him, a machine slid across an invisible table and into view, shattering the illusion. Suddenly the pirate remembered. He had given this report before, it had been his last, and the scene had been quite different. He had been fooled into divulging it to the observing humans. Now he could see them, one sitting so complacently at a table, monitoring the machine that was plugged into his head, manipulating his vision and senses. Two others standing guard at a door behind him. He was furious.

"Human scum, how _dare you fool __**me**_!" he screamed. He lunged at the nearest human, letting loose a vicious roar into his face. He was unarmored, the foolish creature. So with furious strength the pirate wrapped his claws around his neck and gripped him, smirking in delight as he heard him sputter and struggle.

"Pull the plug!" a human voice cried.

Another armored entity rushed behind the pirate and gripped the attached cord. He released his victim and whirled around to meet the other human, but too late. The marine kicked against his back and with a loud, sickening spark he pulled out the only thing keeping the former scientist alive.

The pirate fell to the floor, taking a full minute to recover. When he finally opened his eyes again, Unit 215 was gone. Kayleer gasped, eyes wide with terror as he struggled to come to bears with what had just happened.

He remembered being pushed away, being subdued by another mind within his own. It frightened him deeply, that such a being existed. One whom he did not even know.

"Are you okay?" the question was not directed at him but the human who was lying injured and wheezing on the floor across from him. A marine stood above, looking into his face. His neck was rife with slashes, fresh red blood trailing down and onto the floor. Kayleer realized that same blood was on his own fingers.

"What did I do..." he whimpered. Had he-?

"He needs immediate medical attention!" the marine cried.

Kayleer watched in silence as the injured human was carried out by his fellow men. The sound of his pained coughs filled his mind as he looked down at the floor, wracked with guilt.

Kayleer was left alone. He didn't care. Was he to be punished for his deed? Put to death? The Admiral had promised him freedom, and yet Kayleer hardly felt he deserved it, after what he had done. He had been revealed for what he truly was. After all these years, beneath the passive, Luminoth-turned pirate lay a violent, sociopathic monster. And though Kayleer could not feel his presence anymore, he knew he was there, festering in his mind, lying in wait to be released and spread his violence to every being around him.

He clutched his legs against his chest and covered his face in shame. Uncertain of his future, he waited, alone and afraid.

Soon he heard a familiar voice call out to him. "Time to go, pirate."

Kayleer looked up into the stern, dark face of the Admiral. "Go where..." he asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

"You will be returned to Aether, as promised. The information you gave us is absolutely invaluable," he said proudly. "For that we owe you a debt of gratitude."

"Gratitude?" Kayleer snorted. "What about that marine, is he...?"

The Admiral fell silent, averting his gaze. "He's alive," he said finally.

The response came as some reprieve, but it wasn't enough to put Kayleer's fears to rest. "But, is he going to be okay?"

"There's an escort waiting for you on the lower level, hurry and get up."


	16. Chapter 16 - Homecoming

Kayleer was escorted back on the same vessel, the same crew, by which he was captured. It was a bit of a struggle for them to accept that he was a passenger and not a prisoner this time.

Kayleer was anxious about having to deal with Adelaide. His animosity had hardly lessened since their last encounter, and the fact that he wasn't behind bars just made the human angrier. Paranoid, the marine chose a spot close by Kayleer, to keep an eye on him. Shendra, in turn, remained close by to keep an eye on both of them.

Adelaide's incriminating glare made Kayleer uneasy, until finally he was fed up.

"You don't have to keep tabs on me, Adelaide," he mumbled, finally making eye contact.

The marine cringed when he heard his name spoken. "Gotta make sure you don't do something you'll regret, pirate," he spat back.

"My name is Kayleer. I address you by your name, please give me the same respect."

Adelaide snorted, amused. "Yea? That's your new one right, what was it before you were recycled?"

Kayleer bristled at the mention and didn't respond. How did he know? He was surprised, and let slip the slightest expression of confusion before shamefully averting his gaze. Adelaide seemed to take a sort of satisfaction from it.

"Yeah, don't think I didn't see what you did to that marine. Poor guy will be lucky if he ever walks again. I bet he's not the first either, former Science Team member, right? Bet there's a lot of blood on those hands. It's a fucking travesty they didn't execute you right then and there on the Olympus."

"Adelaide that's enough," Shendra warned him. She feared the situation might get out of hand, and instinctively twitched her trigger finger.

The two marines looked at Kayleer, expecting a response. He kept his gaze fixed down and didn't answer. He was angry, ashamed, he didn't know how to respond. Without another word he left the room, seeking sanctuary from the humans' prying eyes and accusing words.

Kayleer didn't want to believe it, but couldn't help but feel that Adelaide was right.

* * *

Kayleer's return to Aether was met with open arms. Perhaps no one was happier to see him back safely than I-Sil. She clasped her arms around him and let flow to him an aura so grateful and unwithheld that he felt he would faint. But Kayleer did not respond as she expected. He was dismal, afraid.

She held his head and asked him fervently to tell her what troubled him, but he would not answer. Something was different; very, very wrong.

U-Lir took quick notice of this as well, and turned to look at the retreating forms of Kayleer's former captors.

"_What did you do to him,"_ he demanded. The marines deigned to answer and reboarded the ship.

"Kayleer, what happened?" I-Sil begged. She considered for a moment that he may have been tortured, but he bore no marks, no wounds or other signs of harm. But that in itself was not enough proof for her. "Did they hurt you?"

"No," he answered. It wasn't entirely true, but not entirely false either.

I-Sil and U-Lir exchanged looks, concerned and frustrated by what little information they were getting. Kayleer pushed away from his mother, trying to shut out her comforting thoughts. He did not want them.

"Then what happened?" I-Sil repeated, hurt by his actions.

"Nothing!" Kayleer answered angrily. The tiniest hints of a roar echoed through his voice, and it frightened him. "I..." he swallowed hard, trying to gather his thoughts. "I just need to be alone right now."

He bowed respectfully to them and walked away, disappearing into the bog. U-Lir began to form suspicions. He had an idea of what Kayleer was not telling.


	17. Chapter 17 - Remembrance

Meditation. That was what he needed, Kayleer was sure. Calm down, collect his thoughts and focus. That would clear his mind and give him peace; it always did. But no matter how he tried, he was distracted. The scene on the Federation ship played itself over, again and again in his mind. He had taken a backseat to another entity's mind entirely. He had watched as he launched himself at the human, as he tried to tear his throat out. The pure surge of ecstasy that had come with the act of violence was enough to make him sick.

Kayleer shuddered. He bit his jaw and shook his head violently, trying to get the memory out of his mind, but it refused to be forgotten. Kayleer decided he needed to know the truth. He needed to know what he-215 had done, who he was. He tried to access the memories but could not reach them. The humans had known how; perhaps they were not the only ones.

Kayleer returned home. He deliberately avoided I-Sil, and instead made his way straight to the lab. As luck would have it, only one Luminoth was there.

U-Lir took immediate notice of his presence, and allowed himself a breath of relief. But Kayleer was not any better, still emanating a heavy aura of fear and confusion.

"Kayleer," U-Lir began, uncertain how to proceed. "Did you, see something while you were gone? Something traumatic?" he asked cautiously. Perhaps his fears were wrong, and the only reason for the change in Kayleer was that he had witnessed the human's war.

Kayleer took a moment to observe him. By the way he spoke he could feel that U-Lir was withholding something.

"You know about him, don't you," Kayleer accused. "About my past life?"

U-Lir flinched noticeably. At first he wanted to lie, to tell him no; that knee-jerk reaction was to protect Kayleer, for he had never wanted him to know. But what good was there in protecting him now? Clearly he had already learned.

"Yes," he admitted. Before they had even found Kayleer, U-Lir had known the pirates' tendency to reuse soldiers as slaves. He had seen it in Kayleer as he worked on him, and had taken careful measures to be sure his past memories remained buried and secure. They would have never come to the surface if it weren't for his capture.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Kayleer asked, despaired. It felt like a betrayal, to know that it had been kept this from him all these years.

"What good does it do you to know?" U-Lir responded. "It was another person entirely, why does it matter what he did?"

"No, he wasn't a different person," Kayleer shook his head and clutched his arms. "He's... he's me. What I _used _to be, before you found me, before I was a slave..."

"You can't think of it that way, Kayleer, you have done nothing of sin," U-Lir reasoned.

Kayleer only shook his head. "I need to know," he said resolutely. "I need to know what he did, who he was... Can you show me?"

"Show you?" U-Lir was shocked by the request. Certainly he had the means to manipulate Kayleer's memories, to allow him access. But to allow him to see such horrible things was nothing less than a travesty. "No, I will not," he answered, just as certain.

"You have to!" Kayleer objected.

"I do not have the technology necessary for such-"

"You're **lying**!" Kayleer boomed, a revolting roar echoing through the lab. As the echoes dissipated he locked his eyes onto U-Lir's, begging him to listen. He calmed down the smallest of bits, his voice returning to its quiet and passive tone. "I'd rather know the truth, than live my whole life blind. The truth is more important, isn't that what you taught me?"

U-Lir sighed, closing his eyes for a moment of thought. "Kayleer, please, I beg you not make me do this."

"I need to know," Kayleer repeated himself, ignoring his pleas.

U-Lir gave him a piteous expression. So determined was he to know the truth, despite the damage it would do. U-Lir was conflicted; he wanted to refuse but feared how Kayleer would see him if he did so.

Was he lying to him by refusing? Had he lied all these years? Kayleer certainly seemed to think so. He was furious that he had been kept in the dark. To the war, to his past life, to everything. He might never forgive U-Lir unless he honored his request.

Reluctantly, the Luminoth nodded, gesturing him to an upright metal table- the same he had been on when he had first awoken. Kayleer rested his back against it and waited.

U-Lir hesitated, wanting to stall. But he knew he would only delay the inevitable, and so finally approached Kayleer. Two electrodes pricked the pirate's head and wired him into a console. U-Lir took command, and with ease, temporarily removed the mental barriers that had been in place for so long.

Suddenly all of 215's memories became available to Kayleer. He closed his eyes and garnered his focus, going through them in sequence.

Unit 215. Science Team. Tank-birthed on the research frigate Orpheon. His first work was with weapons, building and improving machines made to slaughter humans. On several occasions, those weapons were put to use by 215 himself. Science Team was not exempt from battles, if the need for one arose. Kayleer watched through 215's eyes as plasma rounds seared through Federation armor, through human flesh. As the quick and painful slash of an energy blade slit countless throats. Many were human, others were pirates who had done some sort of insubordination, shown rebellion. An act of pure malice, slaughtering his own men when they displeased him.

Kayleer twitched in his half-aware state, struggling to keep his focus and continue. He cracked an eye open and paused for a moment, his whole body wracked in a shiver. He shut them again and went on.

Off the warfront, back in the labs. Finally the pirates had discovered phazon. Orpheon stayed in orbit above the tainted planet Tallon IV. Droves of the blue mutagen were brought onboard. With ardor, 215 infused it with countless native lifeforms. He watched, without expression, as his test subjects' bodies were warped and mutated beyond recognition. Some deteriorated entirely, their alien screams filling the halls of the ship as cell by cell was torn apart by the viral life inside them. Kayleer could not fathom how he could, at any point and any mind, be so deaf to the creatures' pain. How he could go about his work immune to the horrors that befell them. He struggled to delve deeper into the memories, finding himself horrified and pained by every one.

One of his more volatile test subjects escaped, and Orpheon was evacuated. 215 made planetfall, continuing his satanic work on Tallon's surface. There, he began to infect his own kind. Pirates, now, became phazon's victims. Growing, being augmented by the sick steroid, only to have their lifespans cut unimaginably short. But the pain and life-drain of their cancer did not matter, so long as they had strength, could fight and win a single battle.

They went insane. Every single infected pirate soonafter lost their sentience altogether. They would attack their own kind as well as the enemy. The only things spared were the fellow infected.

On the move again; 215 left Tallon's surface aboard the frigate Siriacus. This time, he had new purpose. Perhaps the cure to phazon madness lay in another sentient species.

He collected new test subjects. He chose sentient creatures now; people. 215 considered a number of species; Phrygisians, Kriken, Vhozon, but one among the many one seemed more enticing than the rest.

Humans. 215 gained a sick sense of pleasure from human suffering, so of course they were an ideal candidate. Siriacus made its way to one of earth's colonies, far on the rim of Federation space. It sent out five raiding ships to collect test subjects. Only two returned, four test subjects in hand.

Kayleer shivered violently. He did not want to know what came next, but found himself unable to halt the memories now.

They needed to be young. Younger meant more manipulable growth. Two females, two males. 215 had wanted more, but procuring humans was a tricky business considering the Federation defense. All four were to be infused.

A human child, chained to the dirty floor of a cell. She looked up at the pirate with piteous green eyes. Tears streamed down her face and matted her hair as she begged fruitlessly for mercy.

"_No, no, no please no, get away from me,"_ she sobbed. "_Please don't do this...let me go, I want to go home! I want my mom!" _she wailed. 215 did not care. The girl screamed and writhed as her neck was violated by a luminous needle, the virus pulsing its way into her blood. She didn't stop screaming, the burning sensation soon becoming unbearable. She fell to the floor of her cell, her screams muffled by the white foam that had flooded her mouth and covered her face. The other three humans soon followed her fate.

215 watched. He watched and fed the four humans meager rations. Soon the inevitable happened. Three of them stopped talking, stop begging, showing fear, any sign of will at all. They cried out and clawed at their chains to the point of bleeding. Their minds were gone; phazon had taken its place.

But one was different. The green-eyed human that he had infected first. She still spoke, still showed signs of sentience.

She had grown quiet, her protests ceased. She would mumble softly to herself; silent prayers and pleas. The whites of her eyes blackened, and the once vivid greens were replaced with a hollow blue. Phazon tore through her skin, covering her in luminous, painful growths. But she was beyond pain now. She would watch 215 with a sullen stare as he went about his daily experiments, betraying nothing of how she felt or what she was thinking. But despite her measures to hide her progress, 215 could see through it. He could see that despite the rampant infection, she still had her will; her sentience. She retained her thinking, calculating mind, even though phazon had long-since taken residence in it.

This was what 215 had wanted. Finally, a creature that could fully resist phazon madness. He quickly destroyed the other three test subjects, grinding their flesh into rations for his one successful experiment. Now he would need to harvest her, make her usable for his own kind. And so he began to mutate her. Phazon sped the process along, letting the pirate genes take hold.

Her flesh tore and warped and moved against her will. She screamed, she cried, but nothing would stop the endless onslaught of mutations that claimed her once-human body as their own.

"_Stop it, please... I just want to go home," _a deafening sound of tearful, inhuman screams. The test subject could be silent no more. Kayleer could only watch as the horrors unfolded before him, and he felt as though his heart would break.

"Stop, please stop," he whimpered back. To whom was he speaking? Kayleer did not know. But U-Lir heard him, and took the blessed opportunity to put an end to it. He shut it down, and suddenly Kayleer lost his grip on 215's mind. The sequence of memories faded and he opened his eyes.

But it was too late. Everything he had already seen, he remembered. Kayleer tore the electrodes from his head and fell to the ground. He clutched at his shoulders and struggled to breath. He couldn't stop shivering, couldn't stop reliving the horrible things he now knew he had done. Unable to keep it in he screamed. Anguish, fear, guilt and fury warped together in a harrowing sound. The sheer power of it made U-Lir cringe himself in fear. He rushed to Kayleer's side and put a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him.

Kayleer shook his hand off violently. He hyperventilated, struggling to keep from passing out. He stood and stared blankly into space, trying to come to terms with what he had witnessed- that he had caused.

"Kayleer..." U-Lir begged him to calm down, tried to offer him comfort. Kayleer recoiled at the mere sound of his given name. It felt undeserved, foreign. It belonged to someone else, someone innocent. Not the monstrous pirate; the killer of children.

He ran. He did not look back. There was no solace in others; only the cold, muddy emptiness of the bog.

* * *

One could not even tell that the sun was rising that morning, for a torrential rainstorm had overtaken it.

Kayleer had been gone a full day, and I-Sil had become fervently worried. U-Lir, too, had hidden himself away. He had not emerged from his lab even to eat. When she finally visited him, he was not working. He was merely resting against a wall, seemingly lost in thoughts. When I-Sil neared her mate, she could feel the telltale emotions of remorse.

She looked at him, concerned and afraid to find out what had happened. But he would tell her, she knew.

"U-Lir, what happened? Where is Kayleer?"

Her mate hesitated for a moment before giving a solemn, listless answer. "I... showed him his memories. Of the pirate that came before him. I know I shouldn't have, but he..." he shook his head. "I shouldn't have, I _shouldn't have._"

Instantly I-Sil understood. Whatever Kayleer had been before, a soldier, a scientist, a commander, he had seen war. He had seen the travesties his people committed, and there was no doubt in I-Sil's mind that it would be too much for him to handle.

She stared down at U-Lir in disbelief. She was furious at U-Lir for having exposed Kayleer to such harrowing truths. But now, she realized, was not the time for anger.

She left U-Lir and ran into the marsh. "_Kayleer!"_ she called out with her mind and voice, time and time again, hoping desperately that he would hear her.

* * *

Kayleer was alone. He did not meditate, but merely rocked back and forth, grappling with new knowledge. He tried to clear his mind, to regain his dwindling sanity. But every time he tried he was stopped short, a part of him sure that he did not deserve such peace.

He had murdered. He had tortured. Deliberately infected countless test subjects. He had watched them suffer, writhing in pain, and he had done nothing but perpetuate it.

There was no redemption, no reprieve. He could not escape what he had done.

Rain pattered heavily against him. The drops that hit his arm sent hollow, metallic clings through the bog. There was nothing but him, the marsh, and the memory of his inescapable sins.

There was no way to undo the suffering he had caused, but at the very least he would give those souls some peace.

A stone, a vine. Slowly the engineer assembled the last thing he would ever build. He wrung the vine taught around the heavy stone and tied it, then the other end twice upon his own leg. Straining himself, he picked up the stone and stared into the murky, rain-rippled water. He had made up his mind.

Adelaide had been right.

He did not deserve to live.


	18. Chapter 18 - Revelation

"NO!"

A voice from far away. It didn't matter. Ripples tore apart the already-chaotic surface of the marsh as Kayleer dropped the stone. His crude device dragged him down with it. They sunk fast, at last hitting the muddy bottom with a muted thud.

Though Kayleer wanted it to be over quickly, he could not overcome instinct. Instinct didn't allow him to take in water right away. Instead, air was forced out of him as the oxygen was finally expended, and there was nothing but water to breath. At last his breath failed him, the air escaped as his lungs filled with water. The blues and greens of the world around him shuddered, and faded to black.

* * *

A hard, repetitive force pushed against his chest. A flash of color temporarily broke the stream of endless black. Air clashed with liquid to produce a sickening gurgle. Another flash of color, water poured from his mouth and nose. Another gasp, another flash of color, and this time it stayed.

Kayleer wheezed, water trickling from his throat, he gasped again and again, taking in strained breaths of air. He looked up into familiar amber eyes. The eyes that had raised him and now saved him from death.

Gratefully she picked Kayleer from the ground and embraced him. She held him tight despite his protests and refused to let go.

Kayleer pushed against her chest, trying to escape.

"No, NO!" he wailed in a broken voice. "Don't you get it? _I __**want **__to die!_" he screamed in anguish, trying desperately to free himself.

But she did not listen. The next thing he felt was the soft touch of her head upon his, and Kayleer stopped pushing her away, becoming limp and dazed. He realized what she was trying to do.

"No..." he whimpered, but to no avail. He was trapped. Unable to stop her as she made his burden her own. As she drained the feelings of guilt and sorrow from his mind and replaced them with a feeling of peace. Of resolution and joy. She would not allow him to suffer alone.

Suddenly Kayleer was not a monster anymore. He was a child again. He had dreams and aspirations. He had a family, a mother who loved him. He felt his breath stolen by the sudden epiphany, and a new, more sensical remorse surfaced in his mind; that for what he had just done. For what he had nearly put her through.

He shut his eyes and abandoned himself completely, burying his face in I-Sil's soft fur. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he sobbed quietly.

Her embrace tightened at the words. He repeated them over and over, and I-Sil listened, hanging on every one. She listened and waited patiently, allowing him to let out all that he needed.


	19. P2: Chapter 1 - Armorclad

"You're mad, you know."

"Probably."

A-Vei shook his head in disapproval. "I just don't understand why you're doing this. You were lucky the humans returned you at all, why for the Light of Aether would you want to go back to them?!"

Kayleer didn't answer. He had already explained, and he wasn't keen on repeating himself. He tried to ignore his friend, focusing instead on his new project. He had forsaken his thesis machine in favor of modifying a suit of Federation armor, one with which the humans had graciously provided him.

Taking note of Kayleer's cold silence, A-Vei sighed. "You owe them nothing," he tried to reason. "Just because some pirate before you did something untoward doesn't mean you're responsible."

Kayleer bristled at the mention, recalling the harrowing memories of Unit 215. It terrified him to know that he'd likely only seen a fraction of his crimes.

Was he really a different person than 215? Or had he merely forgotten? Whatever the answer, Kayleer could not help but feel a horrible sense of guilt for all he had done, and he felt the only reprieve was to help in the humans' effort against the pirates. He couldn't live here anymore, knowing what had happened; what was still happening.

"I don't care," he answered monotonously. A satisfying _clang_ resounded from his fingers as a plate of freshly welded-armor locked into place.

A-Vei could sense his resolution, and he knew there was nothing he could say to persuade him. Putting his disapproval aside, he marveled at the newly-completed armor.

"Finished already? You've gotten much quicker."

"It's...a rather primitive build," Kayleer admitted. He had been given a standard marine armorsuit to tamper with, and had modified it significantly. Humans were short, more than half a meter smaller than him, and barely half the height of a full-grown Luminoth. Their legs were straight, single-jointed, and for a moment Kayleer had wondered how it was even possible that they could walk without toppling over.

He had added a great amount of supplementary metal to compensate for the difference in size. He had mimicked the alloys in the suit, even though much-stronger ones were available to him. The Sentinels had forbidden him from taking any Luminoth technology that could be weaponized by the humans. They wanted to remain neither allies nor enemies to the Federation or Space Pirates, and feared that even a small contribution would result in a loss of neutrality.

Were it up to Kayleer, he would have given everything he could to help the humans' war effort. But he knew it was not his decision to make. There was only one piece of technology he had been granted use of.

Black, metal braces were clamped to his shoulders, two on his wrists and legs, one around his abdomen and two on his feet. A vibrant series of green sensors ran through them, constantly receiving and transmitting feedback to one another. The same sensors ran along the inside of the freshly-crafted armor.

Kayleer sent a mental signal to the sensors;

_Assemble._

In an instant, the armor on the table reacted. Held aloft by a magnetic field, they floated towards Kayleer, clinging to his body in an orderly sequence. First came the flexible, almost-rubbery underarmor, a durable membrane that would allow him to move, while heavier metal plates covered the rest of his body. He could feel them aligning, locking into place above his exoskeleton. It built up from the extremities; first his legs, then his arms, unattractively asymmetrical as one arm harbored a canon while the other allowed him the free dexterity of his prosthetic fingers. Four plates aligned down the length of his abdomen, and extended to wrap around his back. Finally the chest, the most heavily-shielded area. It seemed that in both humans and pirates alike, this was the area in need of the strongest protection. A large, cross-shaped plate locked into place just above his heart, extending smaller pieces outwards, around his neck and finally his head. A bright, opaque blue visor slid down his slender visage, a complex HUD lighting up in his line of sight, telling him that the suit up was complete.

Kayleer bent his legs, he flexed his arms and stretched, testing his movements. To his relief, they felt quite natural. The armorsuit seemed to allow him a great degree of freedom despite its primitive, clunky build.

He noticed A-Vei move nervously out of his way, a frightened expression on his face.

"Careful where you point that thing!" he cried, sounding more annoyed than scared.

Kayleer lowered his right arm. He realized he had inadvertently aimed it at his friend. He would need to acclimate to the fact that his arm now harbored a weapon.

"Sorry."

"I do hope you get some training in that thing before you plan on leaving," he chided.

"I admit I haven't the slightest how to act in this armor, but the humans' basic training should fix that," Kayleer retorted. "Though I have done basic combat training the past few months."

"Oh, I noticed. By the Light you bulked up quickly. Did your trainer slip you growth hormones?" A-Vei laughed.

"No," he answered. "Pirates heal fast. Damaged muscle is repaired and built faster." The reason was simple, and Kayleer couldn't help but feel a bit of resentment for making use of his species' unnatural abilities. He knew them to be the result of years of genetic manipulation and efficient artificial breeding.

"You know, you should be grateful. Any Luminoth would have taken three times as long to get the same result, and they would have ached a lot more in the process."

"To be grateful would imply that I've gained more than I've lost by having a pirate's blood," Kayleer responded.

A-Vei only shrugged. He looked up to the clouds, which masked the vast void of space in which his friend would soon be lost. "How long are you going to be gone?"

Carefully Kayleer removed his helmet, resting it against the table and gazing into the visor. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to come back at all," Kayleer admitted. The guilt he felt from his life as 215 was enough to drive him from Aether. He felt as though he could never return until he was certain nothing like that wretched scientist would ever be spawned again.

"So melodramatic," A-Vei groaned. His eyes flickered back to the sky as he saw a tiny silver craft pierce the atmosphere.

"Is that your ride?"

Kayleer followed his friend's gaze and watched as the small escort ship dropped out of sight in the direction of the central temple.

"It is," he answered.

He bowed to A-Vei, who returned the final greeting. With a heavy heart, he left his friend.

Kayleer gave his farewells next to U-Lir, and then to I-Sil. She looked down at him with piteous amber eyes, so full of regret for his decision. And yet despite her objections she knew this was the only reprieve Kayleer could find.

"I'm sorry," Kayleer said quietly, turning his head away.

She put a hand to his chin, and lifted his gaze to meet hers, offering a warm smile.

"Do whatever you need to feel whole again, Kayleer," she told him.

One final embrace in his mother's arms, one last look at Torvus, and Kayleer made his way to the temple were the human ship was waiting for him. Fully clad in their armor, he felt he finally belonged, and the small escort crew offered him no animosity as he boarded their ship and left Aether behind.


	20. P2: Chapter 2 - Assignment of Espionage

The searing sound of spent plasma sent a rush of satisfaction through his veins. The pirate roared in agony, struggling to keep from succumbing to his wounds. In the end, his efforts were futile, and the frail creature fell to the ground.

The victim was easily forgotten, as Kayleer quickly turned his head to the next one. Plasma flew from his rifle and easily met its mark; a clean shot straight between the pirate's mandibles and into his throat. Kayleer's months of training had not been in vain.

The act of killing had come as something rather ambiguous to him. Raised by peace-loving creatures and a pacifist by nature, Kayleer surprised even himself with the vengeful spirit with which he tore through the battlefield. With every putrid pirate he put down, all he could see was another murderous, soulless creature, a monster like 215. It helped that he could not understand their language. That every threat, taunt and pleading fell as babble upon his ears. Yet some part of him truly enjoyed it, not simply for what he was killing, but that he was killing at all. Kayleer tried to push it away, at first, fearing it to be something primal and cruel, something that belonged not to him, but to 215. But as time went on he found it harder and harder to resist it.

He had spent far too long being weak. For the first time in Kayleer's life, he had power, and he frightened himself by just how much he enjoyed it.

Kayleer had long since come to realize that unlike 215, these pirates had something fundamentally different. Covered in cyan sores, eyes filled with livid blue, every pirate he faced was infected with phazon. And yet they still maintained their sanity, by all appearances. Perhaps at long last, they had finally learned to control it.

He rarely felt threatened. On top of his relative size and strength compared to other marines, the pirates Kayleer faced were always little more than the weakest the armada had to offer. The militia; the reserviced criminals and slaves. Such were the enemies that green recruits such as himself were sent to face. Petty raids and the like, small jobs that the pirates weren't willing to waste good troops on.

But these easy assignments were not to last long. Once he gained enough experience, he knew he'd be sent off to tougher foes, ones that offered a much more real and lethal challenge. Before it could happen, though, Kayleer found himself summoned once more to the Olympus.

* * *

The familiar architecture of the warship took shape around him as the Stiletto fighter made a neat landing in the docking bay. This time he was led away unchained, towards the briefing chamber. A familiar man was there to greet him, alongside a new face; the holographic form of the ship's Aurora Unit, 242. A massive biological supercomputer, one in control of every room and function on the ship.

Kayleer raised his arm to his forehead in a human salute.

"Good to see you again, Kayleer," the Admiral welcomed him. "I've called you here because I believe you're far too useful to be wasted on the warfront. Not when you can get behind enemy lines."

A dread rose in Kayleer's mind. "Behind enemy lines?" he begged for elaboration.

"Yes, infiltration. You can walk among pirates without arousing suspicion, and you can bring back crucial intel. We need that now more than ever."

"But, what of my appearance... my voice?" Kayleer reminded them. " And I do not speak their language. I would never be able to pass as one."

"We've made preparations," the Admiral assured him. "What I need now from you, is confirmation that you can do this. Will you accept?"

Was he offering him a choice? Kayleer wasn't keen on the idea, but he had joined the Federation army with the intent of aiding them, and he wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to be of service.

Kayleer nodded. "Yes, sir. What would you have me do?"

"This is a simple retrieval mission. Get in, retrieve the data, and get out; that's it," the Admiral motioned to the trooper behind him to come forward.

The trooper approached Kayleer, a metal device in her hands. "Can you remove your helmet and neck armor for me?" she asked.

With a simple mental command, the braces around his neck slackened and came apart. He removed his helmet as his neck braces retracted into the body of his armor.

He knelt down to allow the trooper to slip the metal brace around his neck. With a few movements of her small, human fingers she locked it into place and activated it.

A holographic grid extended from the collar and wrapped up and around Kayleer's face. The grid began to fill in with color, harsh browns and reds of pirate flesh. The projection began to bulge and warp, forming contours and wrinkles, filling Kayleer's mouth with pixellized fangs.

The trooper took a step back, nearly forgetting that what she saw was merely an illusion. Kayleer's benign visage had reverted to that of a true pirate; menacing and vicious as it was.

"Perfect," the Admiral said. "That'll take care of your face. Now there's a speaker module attached to that projector, we'll be speaking into a translator that'll make pirate speech come out of it. So, should the need arise for you to speak, we'll have you covered."

"But what about my armor? This is a marine's armor, and your hologram has no effect on that."

The Admiral cocked a brow, amused by his skepticism. The AU chimed in to answer him this time. "At the end of one of our previous battles, we were able to salvage an intact pirate armorsuit. You will be equipped with this armor."

Kayleer fell silent, unsure how to respond. They really had thought of everything.

The trooper returned to a console, and began to key in a command. What Kayleer had thought was a stasis tube opened its hatch to reveal an empty pirate exosuit. A brilliant green glossed the helm, torso and thighs, while the extremities maintained the usual pirate maroon. A retracted shield hung from its left arm, while a rifle and melee weapon covered its right. It was a model Kayleer had never seen before.

"This armor belonged to an Advanced Shield Trooper. Individuals of this armor class are typically high-ranking within the pirate armada. This should help you avoid some of the conflict that afflicts the lower-ranking classes," the Aurora informed him.

"I've had our technicians working on it for a good long while," the Admiral said. "It's techno-organic, but assembles similarly to a Federation armorsuit. It only seems to respond to pirate cellular structure, however. Made it quite a challenge to remove it in one piece."

"As did the fact that these armorsuits are not intended for removal," the AU continued. "However, several modifications have been made to ensure functional disassemblage."

"But we'll worry about that feature later," the Admiral said. "We were able to restore it to its default setting, meaning its ready to accept a new soldier."

Kayleer looked loathingly at the suit of pirate armor, its chassis open and greedily waiting. He hated the idea of abandoning the suit he had so carefully crafted, only to walk among his own species clad in one of theirs.

"I take it I'm to start this mission immediately?" Kayleer asked.

"As soon as we know the armor works, yes, that is our intention," the Admiral answered. "Remember the interface is biological, so be prepared for that."

Kayleer offered no spoken objection as he willed his own armor to disassemble, and removed the magnetic braces that still clung to his body. He made his way to the stasis tube which housed the pirate exosuit. The armor was spread such that the empty space was large enough to fit his lying body, and so warily, he rested up against it, spreading his limbs into the suit's own. Almost immediately the armor clamped on to him, locking into place with a hiss. The helm slid snugly over his muzzle, pressing his antennae roughly against his head and filling them with a cold, foul scent. Kayleer roared in pain as he felt several spikes pierce his back and wire into his spine. Muscle-bound tendrils extended from various parts of the plating, wrapping around Kayleer's body. Now Kayleer fully understood the need for the stasis chamber; the suit was a living, breathing organism. The fact that the thing had tied symbiotically to him sent shivers down his spine.

Kayleer took special notice of his right arm. The exosuit pulsed around his fingers, and he felt a familiar itching. This was his weapon; his rifle, and his blade. So long had it been since he'd felt it in his own hands...

A simple, coordinated flex of the fingers willed it into existence. A sharp, searing sound pierced the room as it singed the air around it. A trio of blades had taken up residence above Kayleer's fingers; vibrant orange edged with a deep red. One extended far beyond the others, shrouded in steam as it vaporized the moisture in the air. Kayleer found himself fascinated by them, admiring the blades as he turned them over and felt his hand clench into a fist.

"Kayleer!"

The Admiral's voice broke him from his trance. Only now did Kayleer realize that his name had been said not once, but three times before he even responded.

"Y-yes," Kayleer retracted his blades and shook his head. "Forgive me," he said, stepping forth from the chamber. The female trooper from before waited timidly for his permission, then clamped yet another holographic projector to him, this time on his prosthetic. The sleek grey metal of his arm disappeared beneath another projection; of a pirate's arm. The illusion now complete; Kayleer looked every bit as an ordinary pirate.

The Admiral narrowed his gaze, uncertain what to make of that little episode. "Looks like it works; good. Now, on to business."

The Aurora's image flickered and shifted to a hologram of a space station, orbiting around a planet with which Kayleer was not familiar.

"This is pirate research facility Sinensis," the Aurora's voice began. "Reconnaissance probes have revealed that it is is their main producer and developer of phazon-based weaponry. It holds the key to understanding how pirates have utilized phazon to augment their forces."

"Our own research on phazon has slowed to a crawl," the Admiral explained. "Even with the additional resources we've been able to claim from Tallon IV, we've made virtually no progress. We're losing troops fast, and it's high time we learned how to return fire."

"That is where you come in. We need you to infiltrate Sinensis and retrieve the pirate data stored within their labs. It should give us insight into their phazon program, particularly their weapon and armor systems. This will allow us to adapt the designs for our own means."

"How would I retrieve the data?" Kayleer asked.

The AU's hologram flickered back as a metal pedestal extruded from the briefing room floor. Atop it stood a small device, no bigger than a human hand. Etched in red and black, it stood out against the quiet blues and silvers of the Federation ship.

"This data drive was adapted from pirate technology. It contains an AI, a heavily reduced version of AU 242 that will bypass pirate security codes and download the data. All you have to do is plug it into the pirate mainframe," the Admiral explained, handing it to Kayleer.

"Get in to a pirate research facility, download data, and get out…" Kayleer scoffed. "Sounds simple enough."

"There's one more thing as well," the Admiral warned.

Kayleer looked him in the eye, curious.

"We have reason to believe the innermost labs are protected by a pirate genetic lock. They tend to use them exclusively in the most highly secured areas. It's designed to only respond to Space Pirate DNA."

"And what if it does not recognize me as a pirate?"

"An alarm will be triggered and they will come to investigate."

Kayleer's blood froze. Even if he maintained his cover perfectly, there was still a good chance he would be discovered. He didn't want to think what would happen thereafter.

"And if that happens?"

"If that happens you'll already be very deep within the labs," the Admiral said. "It'll be up to you to extract yourself to a safe recovery point."

Kayleer cast his gaze downward, and didn't answer. He grinned in abject disbelief, cracking a sarcastic, almost manic smile. He wondered for a moment if he had betrayed his expression to the Admiral, but quickly realized they could see nothing of his true face. All they saw was the hologram; the expressionless maw of another pirate.

"We'll be guiding you through the labs. There's a camera wired into your helmet so we'll see everything you do. We will offer you aid as we can," the Admiral tried to reassure him.

Kayleer fell silent. Despite his misgivings, he had every intention of following through with this mission, just as he had with all his others. But for the first time, he felt full the fear that it might be his last.


	21. P2: Chapter 3 - Hunter Samus Aran

The quiet calmness of space enclosed him from all sides. His escort vessel had jettisoned him as soon as it was within range of the station's rudimentary atmosphere. With a quiet, muffled pulse, the boosters on Kayleer's back sent him towards Sinensis. It was a long way to travel, but the thin atmosphere offered him little drag.

Little by little, Kayleer began to feel the tug of the station's artificial gravity. He arched himself forward as his armored talons stumbled aboard with a loud metal clang. Instinctively he wanted to give a quick report, to say he had landed safely. But he remembered how deadly the act of simply speaking could be for him, and so he resigned himself to let the recorder in his helmet do its job.

"_Head out of the docking bay, up ahead and to your right should lead you to an entrance,"_ a trooper's voice echoed in his transceiver. Obediently Kayleer followed his directions, for he would have easily gotten lost without them. Sinensis was a research facility, and not the first to be investigated by the Federation. All stations of a certain type shared a similar architecture, and so using that data, the Federation did its best to give Kayleer their knowledge of what lied ahead.

Kayleer flinched noticeably as he rounded a bend; two armored guards stood before him, keeping watch at the entrance.

"_Calm down, they're just guards. They don't know anything yet and won't attack you so don't give them a reason,"_ his transceiver informed him. "_Approach them."_

Reluctantly Kayleer obeyed, doing his best to keep his gait steady and inconspicuous. The two guards looked at one another, mandibles twitching in confusion.

An angry Urtragian voice came from beneath Kayleer's own mandibles. The translator on the Federation side of the signal seemed to make a convincing impression, as both guards moved nervously out of the way, offering Kayleer passage. The doors opened, and Kayleer entered the red-ravaged darkness of the labs.

To his surprise, all that existed was mechanical research. New models of weapons; rifles, energy scythe modifiers, new variations of armor and booster packs. It was a rather benign form of research, at least compared to what Kayleer had previously witnessed. As was typical with pirate research, the area was relievingly low-staffed, with many processes automated and only a few pirate scientists at work on their respective models.

"_This area is just the basic research level. Low security. You need to get to the next level to get to phazon research,"_ the voice in his transceiver spoke quietly.

As the trooper continued to give him directions, Kayleer listened intently, afraid of making a wrong turn and ending up somewhere dangerous. Before long, he had been led successfully through the labyrinth of corridors. A huge steel door that spanned an entire wall greeted him, a panel to its side.

"_That's the genetic lock. You'll need to insert your hand into the terminal on the left,"_ the voice said ominously.

But before he could proceed, Kayleer heard something; the quiet sound of metal rolling against metal. Kayleer looked around nervously, trying to locate the source of the noise. Just as quickly as it had started, it stopped. Perhaps he was allowing fear to get the best of him, and he was mistaking the mere sound of an automated machine as something dangerous.

Struggling to shake off his paranoia, he listened to his orders, and carefully slipped his fingers into the locks and rested his palm against the terminal. It lit up in an eerie red light, and he flinched as he felt a needle pierce the center of his hand. He swallowed hard, awaiting a response from the genetic lock. If his blood failed to register as that of a pirate, an alarm would be triggered, and he would be caught. It would be over.

The red light of the panel beeped once, and turned green. Kayleer allowed himself a grateful breath of relief as the heavy steel doors began to unlatch, opening the gateway to the labs.

The sound of rapid, heavy footsteps filled his ears. He jerked his gaze upwards to see something metallic and orange leap down from the upper level. His reaction came not a second too soon, for he was barely able to avoid the creature's lunge.

_A pirate? Impossible! I've done nothing to blow my cover._ Kayleer thought frantically to himself.

Its right arm began to glow a malevolent gold as it unleashed a barrage of plasma shots at Kayleer. He raised his shield in a panic, extending it from the hilt on his left arm and crouching behind it. He was relieved to see the shots bounce off backs towards his attacker. His safety was short-lived, however, as his opponent withdrew its cannon, and cast its free hand forward. In an instant he felt a powerful tug as his shield was grappled by a vivid charged cord, and with a single thrust, his attacker had forced it from his grasp.

The lasso shot back towards him, this time to Kayleer's throat. It caught on to the metal of his projector as it wrapped itself around his neck and pulled him forwards, towards the armored beast. Kayleer was dragged by his neck along the floor, and only now could he see his attacker clearly. To his surprise, it was much smaller than him, and it was only due to the fact that he was now forced to his knees that he met the thing at eye level. It was certainly no pirate.

His hologram flickered as it struggled to maintain its form within the charged electric presence of the grapple. His transceiver and speaker filled with static. Desperately he clawed at the lasso, trying to free himself, only to singe his flesh and metal as the noose around his neck wound tighter. He attempted to aim his rifle, but his opponent thrust its arm downwards, slamming Kayleer's head into the floor. Dazed, he could do nothing as the creature pulled him towards itself. It held his limp body against its crimson chest and forced its arm cannon upwards between his mandibles. Kayleer could feel the intense heat of plasma begin to singe the inside of his mouth as the victor charged a shot.

Desperately he tried to call out pleadings, but the grip around his throat allowed him nothing but pathetic hacks and squeals. Starved for air, his vision began to blur as the static from his transceiver filled his head, broken only by the fractured calls of a familiar voice.

"...amus...is...miral Dane...ease fire!"

The speaker on his throat called out with the voice of the Admiral, straining to have his message received.

To Kayleer's surprise, the heat against his mouth dissipated, yet the grapple around his throat remained. The armor-clad one hesitated, seeking the source of the voice. It forced its pirate prisoner up against the facility wall before finally dispelling the grapple, using its arm cannon instead to keep the pirate pinned. With its now-free hand it reached for his throat, and tore the speaker out from under his mandibles, ignoring the pained grunts of protest the act elicited.

"Samus, this is Admiral Dane. Please stand down; the pirate's with us. We need him alive," the Admiral decreed.

The Hunter glared suspiciously at her prisoner, wondering if this was some kind of trick. She did not see any other hostiles in the room, and so decided if this was indeed a ruse, she would be able to handle it.

Hesitantly, she slackened, pulling her weight away from the wall and releasing the pirate. He collapsed onto the floor front-first with a groan. As his senses returned to him, he clambered against the wall and righted himself, turning to stare fearfully towards the one clad in orange armor. The Admiral had called it "Samus". She held his speaker in her hand and returned his suspicious gaze through her visor. Kayleer could just barely make out the form of two human eyes, as a glowing verdant line etched its way across them.

The Hunter watched as the scan data became available to her. The bioform beneath the armor was a hybrid between two species, both with which she was familiar. Besides the standard pirate weaponry, the thing was equipped with a transceiver, transmitting on a human frequency, and a localized holographic projector. There was a third piece of foreign technology in its mouth, but she was unable to pinpoint the exact nature of it. From what she could observe, it was likely another communicatory apparatus.

The curious nature of the 'pirate' coupled with the Admiral's request were enough to put the Hunter's suspicions to rest - for the time being.

"Samus, switch to radio frequency Alpha-I5," the Admiral's voice droned through the speaker; it was the same frequency with which they were communicating with Kayleer.

"_Speaking out loud was a risk, but seeing as you didn't blow our spy's brains out, I'd say it was worth it,"_ the Admiral said, now speaking through both their transceivers. "_Kayleer, this is Samus Aran, she's a bounty hunter and one hell of a pirate exterminator. You'd do well to work with her rather than against. _

"_Samus, Kayleer is here to extract data from the pirate mainframe. I don't know why you're here, but whatever the reason, I ask that in addition you assist him where you can. This mission is critical, and we need all the help we can get."_

Samus gave an affirmative nod in Kayleer's direction. It took him a moment to realize the gesture was not meant for him, but for the Admiral, whom she knew to be watching.

"_I'll leave it to you two, then,"_ the Admiral said. And with that he fell silent, not wanting to waste any more of their time.


	22. P2: Chapter 4 - Phazon

With a bit of tampering, Kayleer was able to fit the speaker back onto his neck. The bounty hunter had managed to leave it mostly unscathed, despite the rough way in which she'd seized it.

He couldn't help but notice a strange familiarity in his newfound companion. From the sleek shape of her visor to her enormous shoulders, she bore a striking resemblance to the monument atop the Great Temple, one which paid homage to the famed hero of Aether. Kayleer pondered for a moment if there was some relation between the two.

The lift waited patiently for a body to step into the hologram. Kayleer readied himself as he took his place beside the Hunter and felt the lift carry them downwards, into the bowels of the research facility.

A quiet clank of gears echoed through a mostly-empty space; the elevator came to a halt. As Kayleer took his first steps into the lab, he noticed a very conspicuous change. The lighting had changed from red to a cold blue, and it took him only a moment to realize why.

The mutagen cast its livid shadows across the twisted machinery of the lab. A familiar, almost melodic sound filled Kayleer's ears. Like wind blowing through something hollow and dead, permeated only by the clinking sound of something alive and moving, crackling with radiation.

A familiar smell pervaded the air. Bitter and acrid like burning plastic, yet also sickeningly sweet. It hit Kayleer as a terrifying realization that his sense of smell was exposed to the stuff. It had wafted up through his helmet and into his antennae- the vapor had _touched_ him.

He shivered violently. He felt a queasy weakness in his legs, and felt them falter with his next step. As he struggled to collect himself, he noticed the Hunter was watching, her expression obscured by the blue glare on her visor.

"I-I'm fine," he said quietly. A fine line of light etched its way across the Hunter's visor before she turned her attention back to what lied ahead.

It was stored in vats, test chambers and containers lined the walls of the lab; an almost unlimited supply for the wretched experiments. The vague, silhouetted forms of several titanic test subjects could be seen from outside their stasis chambers.

Kayleer had known this lied ahead. He had known from the beginning that he would be exploring a phazon lab. And yet despite his preparations, he felt stir in him a fresh fear, one nearly forgotten. He felt a throbbing, intangible pain pulse through the metal shoulder of his prosthetic as his heart raced, pulsing the inklings of panic to the rest of his body.

"_Kayleer, what's going on? Your vital readings are going haywire."_

Kayleer shook his head and tried to steady his breath. Yet with every one, he could feel a fresh waft of air brush against his antennae, and he was reminded again of the substance that surrounded him.

"The smell is a non-toxic byproduct of its metabolic cycle," a voice said.

Kayleer looked up, shocked to find the voice came from beneath the deep crimson helmet of the Hunter. Her visor turned to meet his gaze.

"Pirates are resistant to acute radiation syndrome," she continued. "Just don't touch the stuff and you'll be fine."

Kayleer nodded, trying to put logic before his irrational fear. He steadied his stance and shut his eyes, taking a brief moment to clear his thoughts and find peace in his racing mind. He opened his eyes and stood up, doing his best to drown out the terrifying sound, smell and sight of phazon.

He kept his gaze fixed downwards, following the heels of the Hunter as she walked without falter in front of him. The thin corridor began to open up into a much larger space, high-ceilinged and filled to the brim with test subjects, hidden behind tubes of glass frosted with phazon.

The Hunter raised her arm to bar Kayleer's movement. A quick scan of the room revealed several active pirates.

"Being seen together will compromise your disguise," she warned. "Go on ahead. If you need an assist, Dane can inform me."

The Admiral shook his head with a mischievous smirk at how she had addressed him.

"_That's affirmative, Samus."_

Taking a deep breath, Kayleer nodded once more, and turned to the lab. The vast, open ceiling came as some reprieve to the claustrophobic crampedness of the rooms before, and made the ordeal of dealing with the phazon that lined it a bit easier.

_Just don't touch the stuff._

The line repeated itself over and over in his head; the only solace he had at this point. A sound of cracking metal bounced off the walls, and Kayleer turned back to where he had last seen the Hunter. A broken vent cover lie in her place, with no other trace beside it.

He continued to walk. He passed by two pirates, busy at work before what looked like a rather voracious test subject. The small thing clawed at its chamber, leaving visible gashes on the already-tattered surface. The scientists exchanged a few muffled growls and clicks, little more than mindless noise to Kayleer even though he knew it to be their language.

They gave him a cursory glance before turning dutifully back to their work. They did not want to obstruct the pirate who by all appearances was of higher rank and stature.

"_Take the lift at the far end of the lab,"_ Kayleer's transceiver directed him.

He saw a third pirate with yet another test subject up ahead, this time much larger. The pirate twitched his head and snorted in frustration, fiddling with the hologram on the console before him.

He payed Kayleer little mind, and the spy himself kept his focus on the lift at the end of the lab, hoping silently that it would bring him somewhere less corrupted than this place.

The scientist let out an audible growl, and Kayleer jerked his gaze to see what had angered him. The test subject began moving, casting menacing shadows against the opaque walls of its chamber. The scientist called out to his brethren, panic flaring in his raspy voice.

The test subject began to pound against its chamber wall. To Kayleer's horror, he could see tiny splinters begin to form on its surface as the lab filled with its terrible roars. The scientist abandoned the console and turned to run, but his actions came too late. The splinters turned into full solid cracks as the glass finally gave way and broke apart. A huge volume of concentrated blue vapor flowed outwards from the shattered chamber as the monstrosity emerged.

Its three-part mandibles opened wide as it let out a roar. Its titanic body sported two huge arms which seemed to bear the bulk of its weight. Its head stood at the end of a long, serpentine neck, which twisted and writhed as the creature spewed forth a copious amount of phazon from its maw.

It reached out with a massive arm and grabbed the fleeing scientist. It cared not that he too, was infected, for corruption had created a creature with little more than a feral existence. The scientist squirmed in its grasp, roaring in anger as he struggled to pull his arms out of its claws and defend himself - but to no avail. The pirate was helpless as the creature's jaws wrapped themselves around his face and tore his head clean from him body.

"_Kayleer, get to the lift- NOW!"_

Such a thing should have seemed like an obvious action. And yet Kayleer ignored it. He was frozen in place, down on his knees and eyes wide with fear. He felt his breath turn rapid in an involuntary spasm as his heart pounded painfully against his chest. The thing had spewed its phazon everywhere.

Pirate armor was anything but airtight. It left various parts of Kayleer's body exposed, and in addition to hearing the searing sound of the stuff burning through the armor's organic components, he could feel it on his prosthetic. A familiar burning sensation filled his mind as phazon once more began to eat away at his limbs.

The other scientists had evacuated, and the lab began to flash red as an alarm was sounded. Turrets spouted forth from their resting places and began to assault the escapee with plasma rounds.

The monster dropped the headless body of the scientist and turned its eyes to Kayleer. The floor trembled as it stomped forward towards the fresh prey. Its augmentation was incomplete, and its skin seemed to slough off as it moved, deteriorating further with every step as the plasma from the turrets seared through its raw skin.

Kayleer could hear the thing coming closer. And yet his eyes were fixed on the floor, body wracked in shivers. His mind was frozen in panic. He felt trapped from all sides by the phazon on the floor and his body. Like liquid shackles, they kept him pinned in fear, helpless to move as the ravenous creature neared ever closer.

"_What's wrong with you?! MOVE! NOW!"_

The creature stretched out its arm to grasp him. Its eyes glinted with greed as its maw twitched in anticipation.

Suddenly the arm fumbled in its course as a new source of weapon-fire tore away at a weak spot on its shoulder. A few well-aimed rounds seared at its joint and sent the creature reeling back in pain.

A familiar armored warrior ran effortlessly through the tracts of spilled phazon, ignoring the deleterious effect they had on her shields. She reached a new vantage point, one free of the toxic substance and resumed her assault, aiming now at the creature's other shoulder. Its weak spots exposed, the creature roared in rage and agony as it was driven backwards.

"_GET MOVING!"_

The voice cried loud and angrily through Kayleer's transceiver, urging him to take advantage of the opening.

The Hunter looked back, seeing the pirate was utterly refusing to move. A quick scan verified his identity, and she used the momentary opening the creature had given her to rush back towards him. With surprising strength, she grabbed the pirate by one of the ornate spines on his armor and dragged him towards the lift. She thrust him forward into the hologram and watched as it descended all too slowly. She turned back to see the monster launch its swollen body towards her, and swiftly dodged the attack.

Choosing to ignore the more nimble opponent, the creature reached its arm into the elevator shaft, greedy to get its hands on the pirate so close to escaping. But a charged cord of energy wrung itself to its shoulder and pulled him back. The Hunter dragged the cowardly creature towards her as the lift carried the phazon-tainted spy out of the fray.

The sound of the battle filled the elevator shaft as Kayleer was carried downwards. He tried desperately to move. The horrid, all-too-familiar feeling of terror had completely overwhelmed him, and it bore down on him like a lead weight.

"_If you don't start moving, the phazon will spread. It will kill you."_

The voice sounded muffled and far away. English and Aetherian blended together in his head in a nearly-inaudible garble of translated speech.

"N-need to move…" Kayleer stuttered. With pained effort he began to crawl forward, feeling his armored carapace slide slowly across the floor, lubricated by the radioactive slime that coated him.

His fear began to fuse with very real pain as the phazon burned through the armor and began to consume his flesh. It was a different variant than the one he remembered from the mines, acting less like something alive and infectious and more as simple, deadly acid.

He let out a roar of anguish, struggling in vain to push his body forward. He clung to the frail hope that he would find salvation somewhere, somehow, if he only moved.

But the sounds of his roars echoed through empty hallways as he tried fruitlessly to stand. The phazon had begun to eat away at the exposed joints in his legs. Kayleer could feel his exoskeleton burning away as he collapsed, time and time again to his knees until finally, he could try no further. He fell to the floor and whimpered hopelessly in defeat.

The pure, concentrated agony began to force the sleepless pirate into stasis. He heard armored footsteps, and turned his blurred gaze upwards in hope.

But it was not the benign form of the Hunter that greeted him this time. He saw only the hocked legs of yet another pirate, and felt his last bit of hope wither as he slipped from the waking world.


	23. P2: Chapter 5 - Unit 387

Rain pattered against his body in a world of pitch black. The familiar sensation made the pirate smile. Water dribbled down his carapace and filled his senses with the delicate feeling of moisture. Though he was blind, his imagination began to wander, and created around him a most familiar scene. The roots of a tree cascaded down the stone walls of a temple, following the everlasting flow of rainwater. Plant life blossomed all around him, relishing in the life-giving drizzle that trickled down their leaves and bestowed upon them a beautiful coat of dew.

But the swamp began to fade as the real world seeped into Kayleer's vision. The pirate's tired eyes began to creak open in a sluggish haze.

The dull, natural colors of Torvus were gone in an instant, replaced with the harsh reds and blacks of pirate lab equipment. Kayleer could feel his back pressed up not against stone, but glass. He blinked, trying to focus his eyes, and quickly realized that he was encased in glass from all sides.

Fine streams of water fell upon him from tiny openings in his prison's ceiling. His antennae twitched beneath his helmet as water trickled down them, leaving a strong, chemical scent in its wake. The water collected in a drain beneath him, carrying away the foul substance that had nearly consumed him.

Kayleer heard the telltale sound of pirate speech. He looked up to see the gnarled mandibles of an Urtragian twitching beneath a helmet on the other side of the glass.

"_Kayleer, stand up."_

With great effort, Kayleer obeyed, and picked himself up from the floor. The pirate on the other side of the glass growled again.

"_Spread your arms and stand in the center,"_ the trooper translated for him.

Once more, Kayleer listened. He stood perfectly still as two hoses extended from the chamber's ceiling and let out straight, flattened jets of water. The pressured streams did a thorough job, blasting against him from all sides and angles, the chemicals loosening the mutagen and washing it away to be burned and purified in the septic system below.

Finally, they retracted, and a thin plane of light scanned the tube's contents from top to bottom. It seemed to return a satisfactory result, as the pirate on the other side punched in a command to the console. The glass walls lifted up and away.

Still weakened from his phazon burns, Kayleer staggered forward from the decon chamber. He felt his legs buckle and he stumbled forward, but to his surprise, an arm braced against his chest and halted his fall.

He looked into the gnarled visage of a pirate, clad in a vivid green armorsuit not unlike the stolen one he wore.

The pirate held his arm steady until he was satisfied that Kayleer could stand on his own. He cocked his head and looked his fellow pirate over, glaring forward with all six eyes. Kayleer swallowed nervously, fearing the phazon may have done enough damage to leave his true form exposed.

The pirate grunted, mandibles twitching as he growled out his Urtragian words. Kayleer could not understand them, but the humans on the other side of his recorder watched intently as the pirate's speech was translated and appeared in English before them.

"Unit 215?"

Taken aback by the familiar name, the Admiral spoke directly to Kayleer. "_Relax, we'll handle this,"_ he told him. The Admiral took control of the translator and watched the pirate's reactions. Was Kayleer truly being mistaken for the Science Team member he once was?

"215? 215, it's you isn't it? I recognize your heat signature," the Urtragian exclaimed, a sense of glee in his growls. He removed his helmet, revealing his face. His eyes were deepset and yellow, without a hint of phazon, and his heat pits flared in curious investigation. "But, I thought they reserviced you?"

"They did," the Admiral said, confused at the unaggressive nature of the pirate. He had thought Kayleer's former persona to be an enemy of the Space Pirate cause. But he noticed the curious lack of phazon infection in the pirate, and wondered if perhaps this had significance. "But I've been able to somewhat reclaim my memories."

"What superb news!" the pirate smiled; an almost manic, toothy grin that seemed menacing to Kayleer. "Do you remember me? Unit 387? I've been continuing your research under the guise of an infected pirate. I've made very little progress, I admit, but I have not yet been discovered," he reported eagerly, shifting his eyes around the room as if to be certain that no one was listening.

"Of course I remember you," the Admiral said coyly, feigning familiarity.

"And you are not infected either," the pirate observed. "How lucky it is that I came upon you before you were terminated -or worse. Your voice sounds a bit different, but your heat signs have not changed one bit in all these years."

"Nor have yours," the Admiral replied. "Why are you not infected?"

"It is only thanks to you. Without your warnings I never would've known to run. Phazon sickness spread like a plague over Urtraghus," he growled. "I followed your guidance; I left before it could seize me, and I brought with me a small troupe of others. Everything you predicted… phazon becoming intelligent, taking control, it happened faster than I could ever imagine. High Command is dead. Gone into hiding or terminated by the Dark Hunter."

"Dark Hunter?"

387 looked at Kayleer, surprised at the question. "Do you not know? When our last ship took off from Aether, they brought something much more than mere supplies. A creature made of pure phazon, mixed with the DNA of a Metroid and a single human- that of the true Hunter," he scowled at the mention. "She infected the crew of Colossus, and killed any she could not take. The infected were helpless to defy her will. Phazon madness, but a controlled one; it finally had a sentient mind at its helm, just as you predicted."

The Admiral hesitated, sharing a look with his fellow trooper at the new intel.

"So what happens if we kill her? If we rob our infected brethren of their leader?"

387 frowned. "I suppose they would revert to a typical state of phazon madness; mindless drones craving only the infection of others." He snorted. "But it's not as if we could even muster the firepower to try. She is well-defended, difficult to find, and the forces of the uninfected are hardly worth risking on a suicide mission."

The Admiral grinned. It seemed the answer to the Federation struggle had been here all along. But they still needed one more thing.

"387, I'm here to extract data I need for my research, can you lead me to the mainframe?"

387 perked up, thrilled at the mention. "O-of course, sir. You are working on a cure again, yes? To replicate the lost experiments onboard Siriacus?"

"Yes," the Admiral lied.

387 nodded. Fully believing he was aiding one of his own, he led the way through the lab. Kayleer received an order to follow him, and so he did.

The Admiral decided that any time spent with this easily-manipulated pirate was worth exploiting, and so he began to ask the scientist more questions.

"My memory is still a bit impaired," he began. "What were my experiments aboard Siriacus?"

"I suppose you can't be blamed. One would be lucky enough to outsmart a scritter after a recommissioning as a slave," he laughed. "Do you remember Project Transfuse? Humans proved to be the only species with a natural resistance to phazon madness, though even then it seemed to be a rare gene. We were so close to isolating a pirate vaccine…"

The Admiral looked at the screen in shock. Human test subjects? The idea seemed so vile and unfamiliar that he had a hard time coming to terms with it. And yet despite it, he felt there was something eerily familiar in his description.

"We created… a pirate-human hybrid, didn't we?" he asked.

387 nodded, thrilled that 215 seemed to remember something. "We were going to harvest it for its genes, before the accursed Hunter broke into the labs and set the thing loose among the stars. I've searched for years and haven't come up with a single trace," he scowled. "And procuring more test subjects to replicate it? The Dark Hunter would never allow it, and risking the forces of the uninfected is out of the question."

387 paused for a moment at a door. He raised his hand to be scanned by a terminal and led Kayleer into a room ablaze with red screens and wires. He pointed to one in particular, several open ports rested atop it.

Kayleer heard the order to insert the drive, and so cautiously, he approached it. He drew the device forth from a crevice in his armor, and inserted it into what looked like an accepting port. He then waited for the AI to do its work.

387 tilted his head, curious as to what the device's purpose was. "A datadrive?" he inquired. "Do you not even remember how to operate a terminal? If that's the case, I could have simply retrieved the necessary data for you."

"I did not know you were alive and uninfected prior to today," the Urtragian voice answered.

"Yes, that reminds me," 387 peered at the screen, watching various error messages pop up and disappear as the drive appeared to hack and destroy every security wall it ran into. "Where have you been all these years? Why did you not come into contact with us? The other uninfected?"

The voice did not answer at first, for it was trying to calculate a lie.

"I was set adrift after an attack on my vessel. I have been operating in secrecy, continuing my research. I did not know of your existence, and I apologize that I did not come into contact sooner."

"But we sent out numerous encrypted bliptrans," 387 protested. "Surely you received at least one? We pulled together a good amount of escapees from Urtraghus, Tallon and Aether alike. I was saddened that you were not among them, and I assumed you were terminated on Aether."

"Perhaps I was out of range."

387 narrowed his gaze, growing suspicious. It occurred to him that 215 had avoided him deliberately. "But, that doesn't matter now, does it? You have returned. So few members of Science Team escaped infection, your aid could be what finally saves us," he decreed hopefully. "You were the only one who made any real progress on how to combat phazon's psychological control."

The Admiral smirked. "Yes, I will join you soon. I need to procure a few more items from my own base. After that I will return to you and the other uninfected," he lied.

387 grinned in delight. Luck appeared to be with him this day. His gaze flickered back to the data screen, still hacking away. Droves of encrypted code flashed across it as it tore through the system.

The two pirates looked up for a moment as a resounding clang echoed through the walls; as though something far away and massive had been jostled. They quickly dismissed it as a mundane going-on within the lab.

"I still don't understand why you feel hacking is necessary; I can give you whatever data you need," 387 repeated. Feeling bold, he approached the console, taking a closer inspection at the modified drive which his companion had inserted.

"Stop," the Admiral said. "You needn't tamper with it; it has already started, so just let it run its course."

But 387's glare narrowed as he neared the drive, putting his face closer to have a better look. His nares widened and cringed, as though smelling something foul. His suspicions mounting, he tore the drive out from the port and looked it over.

"387, replace the drive, now," the Admiral warned, becoming wary.

"This looks as though it has additions of human technology," 387 glared at 215. "It reeks of human flesh."

He flashed his fangs as his face twisted into a scowl. "You've allied yourself with _them_, haven't you?" he snarled, drawing his energy blade.


	24. P2: Chapter 6 - A Narrow Retreat

"_Kayleer, get the drive and get out- now."_

He could see from the subtle changes in the pirate's tone and expression that he had become hostile. Kayleer didn't stop to question the order, and launched himself at the other. He pushed 387 to the ground, forcing his weapon-wielding arm against the floor. The scientist matched Kayleer in size and strength, and responded with a vicious grasp at his throat. His claws caught on Kayleer's collar, and in an instant he seized it, crushing the device and tearing it forcefully from beneath Kayleer's mandibles.

Kayleer felt his own hand clasp around the data drive. He grabbed it and rolled over, throwing the pirate into the wall and righting himself. He clipped the drive back within his armor and drew his own energy blade, preparing for an attack.

387 looked at the device in his hand. Though mangled and spouting sparks, he recognized it as human technology. He could see the true face of the being he had thought to be 215. The freakish mutant before him was not the comrade he had mistaken him for.

"The Federation has tampered with you, haven't they," he hissed. "The 215 I remember would sooner self-terminate than serve the human scum."

Another quake rocked through the lab, this time shaking loose a bit of dusty rubble from the ceiling.

The speaker now broken, the Admiral had no way of responding. It was pointless now; Kayleer had been exposed. The spy waited nervously, blade in hand, expecting an alarm to be sounded, for an attack. Curiously, none came. Only the menacing, unbroken stare from the pirate across the room.

387 laughed.

"215 is in there, I know it. I will silence whatever Federation slime controls him now," he spat. He did not raise an alarm, nor did he attack. If 215 was indeed still alive, 387 wanted no harm to come to him - especially infection. For he knew it was within his brilliant mind that salvation for his species lie.

Before he could act, a third rumble rushed through the lab. This time the noise tore clear through the western wall, as a familiar orange figure came careening through, midway through a brawl with a titanic beast.

The battle tore through the room and split the standoff in two. Both hunched up against opposite walls and hoped fervently that they would not fall into the line of fire. The Hunter unleashed a vicious barrage of plasma shots against her opponent's chest. But the creature swiped her off its body and gripped her tightly, throwing her against the floor.

It quickly occurred to 387 that if his former companion had indeed allied himself with the Federation, then the Hunter could also be his ally. If other pirates joined the fray, so too would he, and his infected brethren would quickly realize that he was not augmented as they were. Not wanting to risk himself or his plans, 387 decided his best option right now was to retreat. He glared angrily at the mutant pirate on the other side of the battle.

"I _will _retrieve you from your prison, 215," he hissed as he reluctantly turned his back and fled.

The creature's neck bent in the middle with a sharp hock. Its eyes glowed a menacing yellow, set against the crude, dingy violet of its exoskeleton. It flared its enormous wings, vibrant and orange, paying the broken equipment and stripped wires that resulted from the pompous flex little mind. His draconic head reeled back in a terrific roar, one unlike any pirate's. He cast his glare downward upon the Hunter beneath his claw, roaring once more as his mouth became alight with fire.

But with brutal strength, the Hunter wrestled her right arm free from his grasp and blasted his open maw with her arm cannon. The creature lurched backwards from the shot, allowing Samus the tiniest of freedoms with which to move. She rolled out from beneath his claw and stood up, casting forth her grapple. With a single, savage thrust she tore the carapace on his chest clean off, exposing his very core.

The creature quickly reacted to hide his weakness, turning around and whipping his long tail forward to strike the Hunter off her feet. As it impacted her, she grabbed it, absorbing the impact as it drove her sideways. She pulled the tail towards her as the creature roared in frustration, realizing he had merely given her leverage with which to manipulate him.

Before she could finish her kill, more pirates began to join the skirmish. They jumped through the open corridors ravaged from the fight and came to assist their struggling leader.

The Hunter released the monster and frantically aimed her arm cannon towards the advancing pirates. A few well-aimed charge shots took out the front lines, and for a moment she felt even these odds were not against her. But as the pirates continued to encroach upon her, she noticed something strange.

With hollowed roars, the pirates began to abandon themselves to the phazon within them. They allowed the mutagen coursing through their veins to expand to its full potential. Wild, insidious tendrils tore through their exoskeletons and whipped through the air. Their luminous sores grew larger and brightened with intense power.

The violet creature laughed; a raspy, repetitive shriek. It took advantage of the Hunter's distraction and let loose a plasma blast from its mouth into the wall. It snaked through the opening it made and left the Hunter to her fate.

She wanted to follow, to finish what she'd started, but she was quickly surrounded and was left with no opening. The phazon-imbued pirates began to fire upon her with incredible speed. Kayleer had never seen any weapon quite like these. A ruthless barrage of phazon-sheathed plasma flew in rapid succession from their rifles and fell upon the Hunter's armor.

Kayleer wanted to run, knowing he could be their next target. His disguise was destroyed, and he had no such phazon weapons to match theirs. At the same time, the thought of leaving the Hunter to die gave him a shameful sense of cowardice. No, he wouldn't run. He refused to be a coward any longer. Ravaged with confliction, he readied his blade and inched forward for an attack, knowing full well there was no way to win.

The Hunter cried out as she saw her shields draining rapidly. Within moments they would be completely gone, and she would perish. She did a quick scan of the room, and saw the pirate spy walking slowly towards her attackers, blade drawn. In a last ditch effort to save herself, she punched in a command to her arm cannon. She rose up and ran towards the only uncorrupted pirate. The barrage of phazon continued to bombard her as her HUD lit up in warning and filled her ears with an alarm.

She tackled the pirate to the floor and drove him backwards as an ear-splitting explosion rocked the entire facility. Missiles blasted their way through the pirates, incinerating their corrupted flesh on contact. A brilliant light erupted from behind the Hunter as the shockwave spread out, shattering every test chamber and console in the room.

Kayleer's ears resounded with a shrill, ringing shriek that drowned out all else. The light from the explosion nearly blinded him, but he could just make out the sleek hull of a gunship peeking through. He felt the immense weight of the Hunter lift itself off him and he gasped for air as he felt his chest allowed to expand.

Not trusting him to run at her speed, Samus grabbed the pirate once more by a spine on his armor and dragged him with her towards her ship. It extended a platform down from its hull and she quickly threw him onto it, joining him milliseconds later as she commanded the ship to take them aboard.

The ceaseless barrage of phazon shots continued to come even as the ship took the pair inside itself. It began to take damage as well, but remained undaunted as it rocketed out of the facility and off into space before its pilot even took her place at its helm.


	25. P2: Chapter 7 - Reflections

The ship quickly entered warp speed and left Sinensis far behind, much to the relief of its pilot. Kayleer lay on the ship's deck, preferring to remain there for a time to catch his breath and calm his racing pulse.

When he finally decided to stand, he felt a sharp pain pierce his back and fell facedown, back to the floor. His whole body became wracked in a seizure as he felt his limbs become entirely immobile. Panic flared once more as he struggled to move but found he could not; he was paralyzed.

Samus punched in a command on her arm cannon, prompting the turret to cease its attack. The beam of paralyzing golden light retracted as the turret withdrew into the ship's hull.

"Sorry; automated defense drone. Reacts to pirate presence," she informed him dully, taking her place in the cockpit.

Kayleer tried to catch his breath once more, sick of the constant assaults he seemed to be receiving from every party. "Can I move now?" he asked, humiliated as his voice rang muffled from its forced proximity to the floor.

She nodded. Kayleer rose to his feet, wiping a bit of drool that had collected on his mandibles during his short-lived paralysis. Despite his annoyance at having been attacked by the ship, he knew he owed the Hunter a debt of gratitude.

"Thank you for saving me," he said quietly, hand against his chest and head bowed.

The Hunter merely raised her hand dismissively.

"_Samus, AU 242 wants to speak to you two,"_ the Admiral informed her.

The Hunter raised her arm and activated a small terminal above her. She punched in a sequence of letters on a keypad that Kayleer did not recognize as human symbols. Curiosity welled within him as he second-guessed his own assumption that the Hunter was human.

The ship darkened as the holographic form of the AU illuminated before the Hunter. Carefully, Kayleer neared the cockpit, knowing the message was meant for him as well.

"Samus, thank you for seeing to our infiltrator's safe passage," it began. "The data he retrieved may be our only hope of fighting back. As you saw, phazon has given the pirates unprecedented firepower, one that may outmatch even your own."

The Hunter's hand clenched in frustration. She had come so close to defeat - and from mere pirate grunts, no less. What should have been an easy victory had turned into a desperately narrow escape. She may not have terminated the scum she had chased down to Sinensis, but her assistance seemed to have rendered the Federation victorious in one aspect.

"With this data, we can hopefully replicate the weapons you saw; this will even the playing field," the AU continued. "Please return Kayleer to the G.F.S. Olympus. And Kayleer - we apologize for any injuries you may have received while exposed to phazon. Had you been wearing your regular armor, they might not have been as severe."

Kayleer let out a quiet, frustrated snort. He hoped he would never again have to contact the vile substance. He'd much rather be on the front lines against the pirates' strongest forces than go through this again.

"We are happy that you are safe, and we will offer you full medical assistance upon your return," the AU finished. Its script was friendly, almost cheery, yet the illusion was ruined by its monotonous, robotic tone.

The lights brightened once more as the AU disappeared. Samus keyed in a new command to her ship on the panel directly before her, and Kayleer felt them begin to shift direction. The ship entered warp speed once again, throwing the fantastic array of stars and nebulae around them into a chaotic blur.

Kayleer reclined, resting his back against the sleek orange wall of the ship and sliding downwards. He took a deep, grateful breath of clean air and reflected on all he had seen. He wondered briefly what the conversation was between the Federation and the pirate that had saved him. He had seemed so uncharacteristically friendly, and it seemed strange to him that pirates were capable of treating one another in such a way. He hadn't seen a very detailed view of 217's life, and from what he remembered during his brief time as a slave, pirates treated each other with nearly the same aggressive demeanor with which they treated humans; albeit less hostile.

Yet that pirate had saved him. Was it truly a show of compassion? Pity, even? Or perhaps another motive that Kayleer could not see. Samus had also saved him- and twice. Was he really so utterly helpless? Kayleer shook his head in frustration. He couldn't wait to reclaim his marine armor and return to the battlefield, where he could feel somewhat competent again.

He turned his attention back to the bounty hunter sitting silently in the cockpit, and revisited his pondering of her species. Her armor and ship were unlike anything he had ever seen. Her strength and courage were beyond that of any human - or Luminoth - that he knew. Kayleer couldn't help but feel a bit envious.

He remembered again the uncanny resemblance her armor had to the monument back home, and his curiosity began to get the better of him.

"Have you ever been to the planet Aether?" he asked shyly.

Put off by the idea of small talk, she ignored his question, and did not answer. Kayleer decided to try again.

"The Luminoth sing stories of a noble Hero. One who came to Aether in her time of need and purged the darkness in her heart, who single-handedly ended the Great War."

The Hunter turned her head briefly, not even enough to look fully behind her, before turning her visor back to the haze of stars.

"They erected a monument to this warrior. It stands vigil atop the Great Temple, watching over all of Aether. I was wondering if-"

"I don't normally carry passengers. There's a reason why," the Hunter cut him off.

Taken aback, Kayleer stopped. Unsurprisingly, the Hunter was not fond of talking, and he quickly realized any questions he had for her would likely go unanswered. He sighed, realizing his words were wasted. The Hero of Aether was said to be the most modest and silent of warriors, so perhaps it was a fool's errand to extract an actual conversation, even if she was the same person.

Kayleer shut his eyes complacently and entered a state of meditation, letting the longs hours of flight melt away into space.


	26. P2: Chapter 8 - A Familiar Team

Several months had passed since the mission to Sinensis. The pirate data was in the hands of the Federation at last, and with it their phazon program had accelerated at an unprecedented rate. Within weeks they had the first PED models; Phazon Enhancement Devices which could raise a marine's firepower to match even the strongest of foes.

The Federation had come up with a name for this state of power, known as Hypermode. Numerous victories had been achieved thanks to this blessed boost, but the war was far from over.

It was only through the pirates' data on how they themselves had achieved Hypermode that the Federation was able to replicate it. As a show of gratitude for Kayleer's contribution, he was offered his own PED upgrade for his suit. Phazon was a limited resource, and so only specially-selected troops were allowed to use it.

But Kayleer was quite sure he'd rather be dead than carry phazon at all times. Entering Hypermode meant having it course through his armor; directly on top of his skin. The thought alone made him feel nauseated.

Kayleer was soon stationed on Norion. A strong military presence existed on the hardy, forested world, one which Kayleer was happy to contribute to, so long as no one forced a PED into his suit.

The Admiral personally selected his new squadron. One of moderate experience and expertise, he saw it as a better fit for Kayleer than the usual, similarly green recruits. It was a team with which the pirate was already somewhat familiar.

An armorclad marine raised his hand to his forehead in salute to the Admiral. His team of six others waited in orderly formation behind him.

"I've chosen a soldier to fill your eighth rank," the Admiral began, walking before the line-up with a stalwart gait. "I'm sure you're already acquainted. I'm also sure you're aware of what this pirate has done for our cause. So any petty animosity you might still bear - I suggest you lose it," he ordered.

Obediently the soldiers gave their salutes.

"I leave you in Commander Brady's hands," he told Kayleer. The pirate gave his own salute as he watched the Admiral depart, reboarding a sleek silver vessel to carry him back out to space.

The commander looked up, watching the ship as it left Norion's thick atmosphere. He offered a hand to Kayleer, who, having fallen back on his limited knowledge of humans, knew the gesture well enough to shake it.

"Commander Leonard Brady," he said. "Good to have you on our team."

The next marine raised her own hand in a salute.

"Lieutenant Commander Shendra Pearse," she introduced herself.

Another four soldiers followed in succession, giving their names and rank. Only one had yet to come forward, and by process of elimination, Kayleer knew exactly who he was. Despite their previous misgivings, the pirate was more than willing to put the past behind him. It would be in the best interests of everyone there.

But Adelaide kept his helmet closed and remained silent, ignoring the glares of his squadmates. As the opaque cyan visor turned to Kayleer, the pirate realized something troubling.

He could feel the very anger and fear coming from the human. The strange sensation of empathy caught the pirate off-guard, for he had never experienced it before.

As the last soldier was finally coaxed to open his visor and welcome the new addition to his team, he tried to keep his expression free of his true feelings. But Kayleer could see straight through the facade. He found himself rebounding the emotions, and a growl rose in his throat as the soldier neared him.

He had begun to reflect the emotions of his fellow soldiers, and without fully realizing it, Kayleer had become reliant on them for his very state of mind.

* * *

"Do you remember your name?"

"Unit…. U-Unit 463," the pirate stuttered, mandibles twitching in erratic spasms.

"Your rank?"

"Science Team, Class 0…06. Research Lab Hydra."

The pirate at the console perked up in surprise. It came as a great delight that he might have just salvaged a fellow scientist.

"Unit 463, you were recommissioned as a slave following unsatisfactory work. Do you remember that?"

The pirate twitched his head in uncomfortable silence. He was wracked in constant, spastic movements, unfortunate indicators of brain damage.

"Yes I-I remember," he wheezed.

"Do you remember your research in Hydra?" the other continued, desperate to see if his experiment was successful.

As the pirate tried to recall the information, his spasms worsened. He let out a terrified roar and clutched at his head. A seizure threw his head against the table, time and time again.

"463, control yourself," the other Unit hissed futilely.

But it was to no avail. White foam began to dribble from the experiment's mandibles. His movements stopped and his arms and legs became limp, hanging quietly over the edge of the lab table. His sputum glistened with bits of metal - tiny mechanical devices the scientist had placed within the slave in a failed attempt to restore his mind and knowledge. With a final twitch, the slave's lifesigns failed, his heart had flatlined.

387 rammed a fist into his console and growled in frustration. Another failure, another wasted pirate. Another tally to take off the limited forces of the uninfected.

But he was not one to accept defeat. No, he would try again. He would continue to try until he found success, until he perfected the process, and could send his creations out to their true target.


	27. P2: Chapter 9 - Dwindling Sanity

Norion was a beautiful planet. Lush and forested, with towering canyons streaking in every direction across its scarred surface. Most of the human bases were built high within the gorges, protecting them from all but an aerial assault.

The planet's forests reminded Kayleer of home. When it rained on Norion, it looked nothing so much like Torvus, and the pirate wished desperately that he could go down to the surface and explore it. But such was not a luxury that Kayleer could enjoy. Most of his time was spent sequestered within the steely outpost, keeping vigil or escorting a VIP, performing some mundane but supposedly essential task. When he wasn't on-duty, he secluded himself to his barrack, using the time to meditate and prepare for another taxing day.

Kayleer wished he could do something else to help. Perhaps he could even help the technicians with their work on upkeeping the many fine workings of the base. But as far as the Federation was concerned, the Aetherian engineer was unqualified, and far from suitable to be relied upon for something as crucial as maintenance.

Though he found his duties quite dull, Kayleer's demeanor was anything but calm. As time passed he became more and more aware of the toll that human contact was taking on his sanity. Every thought and emotion that went through a human's mind, he was forced to share in. His empathy grew stronger every day, turning the docile hybrid into someone far more irritable and paranoid.

Most of the marines on his new team, he found, were quite agreeable. Experienced and mature, not bothering to waste many apprehensions on him.

Slowly but surely, he was learning each human by name. Kayleer noticed early on that humans possessed a great deal of diversity, far more than he was accustomed to. The most variation he had seen between Luminoth was a difference in eye and highlight color, or perhaps size between the ages.

But humans were so fascinatingly different. Skin, eye, hair color, facial features and voice all seemed to jumble at random between each one. Luminoth usually distinguished between one another not by appearance, but by empathy; feeling each other's mind and personality. Kayleer had never developed that ability back home, and so relied heavily on context to tell the difference between people.

But here, there was no such issue. There was no mistaking one human for another.

Leonard Brady, his team's Commander, was a man of fair complexion, with a face dotted with short brown bristles. Reserved and amicable, never offering Kayleer any sort of malice. The pirate supposed the Admiral had chosen him for that very reason.

Shendra Pearse was his second-in-command, and she had risen far in rank since Kayleer had last encountered her. A short crop of golden hair topped her head. Stern and far more strict than Brady, she seemed to demand even more respect from the team than he did.

The others Kayleer had come to know as Anderson Cooper, C.J. Phillips, Wayne Kalson and Toni Vendrall. All graced him with a distinct sense of unease upon their first meeting, but over time they abandoned those feelings, and he now saw in them a pleasing sense of indifference.

But the one known as Adelaide Stevens had made a point of showing just how much he distrusted Kayleer from the very beginning.

Kayleer had resolved to keep as much of a distance from Adelaide as he could. But despite his wishes, no accommodations were made to keep the pair apart. Kayleer had found it quite impossible to explain his reasoning to a human, and came off as little more than a petty nuisance when he tried to object. And so he was forced to adapt; to learn to stomach the human's toxic presence, which had only worsened in recent times.

Despite the peaceful state of Norion, the Federation had suffered a terrible defeat at the hands of the pirates. Even with the added strength of the PED, the marines aboard the newly launched vessel Valhalla were helpless to stave off a pirate ambush. Those aboard theship were massacred, and those who survived the initial assault were mercilessly jettisoned into space.

They had lost contact with the ship months ago, and only now had its fate been discovered. The loss was followed by a great drop in morale. It seemed then that the Federation's efforts were all in vain after all. The situation was not helped by the fact that the pirates had managed to infect the entire Aurora system with a phazon virus in that same mission.

The pirates' knowledge of where and how to strike was frighteningly precise. The type of sensitive information they would have needed for their assault could have only come from inside the Federation.

Kayleer could feel suspicions begin to form in even his most trusted comrades, and it only drained him further. Kayleer felt he could have an outburst at any moment now; that he could turn the hate and suspicion he was forced to feel back on those who had cast it. He found himself met with those familiar feelings once more, having been put on guard with Adelaide yet again.

Kayleer stared across the room towards the human who had caused him so much grief from the very moment he'd met him. The human readily returned the glare. Even beneath the pale light of their visors, their expressions were all too clear, and quickly exasperated their spectator.

"Would it kill you two to get along just once?" Anderson scoffed, a bit peeved that he, as the third member, had the unofficial duty of supervising them.

Kayleer took a breath and averted his gaze. The light-hearted tone of his comrade quieted the atmosphere in the room, and he was grateful for it.

Summoning his courage, he fell back on the marine's words and tried to speak. "No, it wouldn't," he said. He turned his gaze to Adelaide, still locked in a glare. "But I'm not sure what it will take to get him to trust me," he said, a hint of regret in his voice. Despite his animosity, he would give anything for the human to simply let go of his hatred.

"You think I'll trust you just because you played a part in the PED program? Because you've fought alongside us? I'm sure any pirate that's programmed to do it would do it- you're nothing special," Adelaide sneered. "I bet you wanted us to get our hands on it. I bet you're planning some large-scale infection. Then all those PED troopers who were suckered into your plan- they get corrupted and turn on us, yeah?"

"Adelaide, stop," Anderson sighed. It seemed as if he'd only made things worse.

"The way the Admiral talks about you like you're some kind of goddamn hero," Adelaide spat. "Yeah, some hero. Those PEDs really helped the marines out on the Valhalla , didn't they?"

"Adelaide that's enough," Anderson said sternly.

Kayleer bristled at the mention.

"They were new recruits… and they were ambushed. They were unprepared," he said quietly, an echo of lament in his voice.

"You would know all about that, wouldn't you?" Adelaide responded. "And how exactly did the pirates know about the AU? About the Valhalla being staffed with green recruits? They couldn't have gotten that information without help from the inside, now could they."

Kayleer was shaking, his face twisted in a scowl. The marine's anger and paranoia had begun to affect him, and the combination of it with his horrid accusation send a vicious roar quaking from Kayleer's jaws.

The pirate rushed forward, unable to hold himself back any longer. Adelaide instinctively raised his rifle and grinned, more than ready to fire off a round at his hated compatriot.

To Adelaide's dismay, an armored hand came up under his rifle and roughly pushed it upwards, forcing it against his shoulder. The marine thrust the flat of his rifle against the encroaching pirate, and pushed the two apart.

"I said _ENOUGH,_" Anderson grimaced as he felt Kayleer push stubbornly against him. He locked eyes with Adelaide and let out a hideous snarl.

Kayleer could feel his fury mounting, but Anderson had given him a blessed second of hesitation, and it was just enough for him to think things through. He had to get away before he lost control, and so he turned away from the two marines and abandoned his post, rushing outside to the sweet reprieve of solitude.

It was disappointingly dry, with not a hint of rain in the sky. But the platform was empty, free from humans and their horrid, prying eyes.

He eagerly popped open his visor and relished in the thick heat of Norion's star, dropping to his knees before slouching against the guardrail and burying his face in his hands.

Kayleer didn't know how much longer he could stand this. He began to question why he had ever left Aether in the first place. He had thought himself ready to fight, and fight he had. It shocked him that war of all things had come rather easily to him. Yet now he found himself at the mercy of his simple developing senses. It seemed his growing sense of empathy would be the thing to drive him mad, of all things.

Kayleer pondered the idea of returning home. How wonderful it would be to see the Luminoth again, to see his family. To feel his newfound sense develop where it belonged; surrounded by warmth and compassion.

Yet every time he tantalized himself with the idea, he would think back to his past life. He would remember the tear-drenched eyes of the human children he had mutilated and tortured in the name of research. No, he did not deserve a homecoming. He deserved no less than to place himself in suffering for the sake of humans, and even now he felt it was not enough.

Shaking his head, he tried desperately to collect himself. To find peace and be himself again, instead of the irritable and violent creature he had become in recent days.

But a voice quickly interrupted his thoughts.

"What are you doing? You're on-duty right now."

Kayleer looked upwards into a visor. Her face was obscured, but he recognized the distinctive voice.

"I asked you a question, marine," she repeated sternly.

Stifling a growl, Kayleer obediently responded. "I needed to get away," he answered simply.

The Lieutenant Commander shook her head, quickly piecing together the situation. "Let me make one thing clear; I am not here to babysit you, or Adelaide. I'm not going to have the Commander reassign you just because you idiots can't keep from getting into little catfights. Now get up, and get back to your post," she ordered.

Kayleer clenched a fist in anger. Her very presence enraged him and he wanted nothing more than for her to leave.

Without thinking, the pirate rose to his feet and stiffened, rearing up to his full height. He stepped uncomfortably close to his commanding officer and glared down nearly a full meter at her through an open visor, baring his small fangs.

She gave a snort of derision. "Are you threatening me?" Shendra stood her ground, refusing to back away. "Go ahead then, make good on your threat. Make Adelaide's hatred justified. Prove him right, why don't you?" she spat. In spite of her brave facade, she was afraid. Kayleer was much larger than her, and equally armed. If it came down to a close combat fight, she would almost certainly lose.

Kayleer was nearly beyond retrieval, and might have done just that. But to the pirate's surprise, the human gave off a most peculiar aura when she spoke. Her words were not of malice, but of disappointment. She didn't want Adelaide to be right, and in fact hoped desperately that he was wrong. She had believed it up until now, and Kayleer felt an instant sense of guilt for what he'd nearly done.

He bowed his head and backed away, ashamed that he had used his size to even attempt to intimidate her. "Forgive me," he said quietly.

Shendra's brows raised in surprise, and she let out a quiet sigh of relief.

"It's fine," she said. "Now get back to your post."

The marine closed his visor and nodded. He was stunned by the human's sense of trust, and felt a newfound motivation to prove himself to be worth it.

* * *

"Do you remember your name?"

"Unit 659, of course…"

"Your rank?"

"Commando, leader of Squadron 057, first line of defense for Urtraghus... Where am I?"

"Do you remember your recommissioning, slave?"

The pirate snarled, outraged at how he had been addressed.

"I am no slave," he hissed, looking up to see who had spoken. His eye caught on the green form of an armored trooper, certainly one far below him in rank, and it only served to fuel his anger. "Insubordinate scum, you will be punished."

The pirate rose up and tensed his shoulders. He was without weapons, he realized, but he did not let that daunt him. He would tear this insolent creature's throat out with his bare hands if he had to.

The scientist calmly punched in a command to his console as he saw the subject approaching. In an instant, the furious pirate collapsed and let out a painful growl, his body wracked in shivers. He felt an intense pounding in his head, as though something were trying to escape, as though his very blood vessels were engulfed in flames.

"Make no mistake, 659," the scientist began. "You were reserviced for the crime of cowardice. You have been a mechanics slave for the past four months." He wondered dully if the subject could even hear him. His roars of pain had grown in intensity, and had become a nuisance.

387 recalled his previous command to the console and freed 659 from his struggles. The damaged pirate staggered to his feet and glared in the scientist's direction.

"The nanites I've placed within you seem to have served their function admirably. Tell me, can you truly not remember anything from the last four months?"

659 bared his fangs. He had been thoroughly humiliated, and he was furious.

"What did you do to me," he hissed.

"That's not a question you need answering," 387 replied simply, hovering his hand menacingly over the console. "Now I'll ask again; do you remember anything from the last four months?"

659 quickly realized that if he disobeyed, only more pain awaited him, and so he readily acclimated himself to this new line of command.

He dropped his aggressive expression and bowed his head in submission.

"I only remember fragments. I remember being forced under… yes, there was a slave. A workforce in the dynamo that I served in."

"Anything else?"

659 shook his head.

"Excellent," 387 smiled. "How fortunate. The last subject's brain deteriorated entirely. I'm happy to see we've made progress."

659 clenched a fist. It was difficult for one of his former rank to accept such treatment as a lowly, expendable test subject.

"As I'm sure you've noticed, the nanites serve a secondary purpose. They cannot control your actions, but I think the looming threat of a hemorrhagic death will keep you in line," he smiled. "Try not to worry too much, though. They are effective at reversing damage as well."

659 glared upwards into the scientist's smirking visage.

"I have a mission for you."


	28. P2: Chapter 10 - Eve of Battle

659 shifted uncomfortably in his pod, grimacing with the premonition of what was to come.

He wasn't afraid to fight. Though he had never fought off Urtraghus, he relished in the idea of entering a new warfront. He was not afraid of a death at human hands - in fact he hardly believed such an embarrassment was possible for him.

No, what he feared was something far worse than death. It was a fear with which he was already well-acquainted, and one which had earned him his cruel and unjustified reservicing.

_Reserviced for the crime of cowardice_... he recalled bitterly. The former commando remembered the incident well.

Urtraghus had been struck with the wretched Seed, and infection soon spread like fire across its surface. Phazon had evolved. It had become far more volatile than any pirate could manage. Infection was no longer a blessing of strength, but a fate worse than death; complete and utter submission at the hands of another species.

659 had abandoned his squadron when he realized the inevitable. A horde of infected had come upon their barricade, and his pirates were swiftly outnumbered. Tiny creatures skittered across the ground in their wake. Phazon grubs; plague-bringers of massive numbers, and the primary propagators of infection. Even if his infected brethren failed to neutralize them, he knew the vermin that followed would quickly end their struggles.

He knew the battle to be a lost cause, and he didn't want to be infected. 659's nares cringed with the memory of the infected, of the putrid smell put out by their festering sores. Of the cold, hollow feeling in their frozen stares; gateways to an enslaved mind, controlled by something much larger.

It had been a choice between infection and a humiliating retreat. 659 knew he had made the right decision, even if it had cost him his rank, memories and intelligence.

But that hardly mattered now. His mind had been restored, though the agents that had done so could kill him at a moment's notice. It infuriated the pirate to think that 387 had such power over him, but in the end the threat of death for disobedience was nothing novel to him.

The real purpose of the nanites was to force 215- or rather, his Federation-tampered persona, into submission. Once 659 delivered him to his master, he would free him from his servitude.

He shifted his fingers over the modified hilt of his rifle. It was bereft of a blade. In its place was a syringe brimmed with the same nanites which coursed through his own veins. The pirate smirked; it gave him great satisfaction to know he would soon pass this wretched burden on to another.

387 had discovered an insider, one used in confidence by the infected to gain knowledge from within the Federation. He had contacted the source himself, and with them, found where 215 was hiding. To his great fortune, it was one of the very same places the Dark Hunter had already placed a target on. The decision was quickly made to join the vanguard and use the battle as a front for 215's retrieval.

Make planetfall, inject 215 and extract him. The orders were simple, and 659 was confident in their ease. But neither his target nor his human allies concerned 659. He was fearful only of the infected creatures he would soon be forced to fight alongside.

The ATC slowed its course as it joined an armada of others. 659 held his breath as he awaited a response. Theirs was the only ship with uninfected individuals, and even a single slip up could cost them their cover. To his and his escort's relief, no hostility came, and the ship slipped by unnoticed, blending in seamlessly with the rest of the invasion force.

The first phase of the plan had gone off without complication. 659 hardly predicted the rest would go as smoothly, and sneered pessimistically as a grey, forested planet begin to loom forth from the blackness of space.


	29. P2: Chapter 11 - Execution

"You know, I never really figured it out, but why did you decide to join the army?"

Kayleer perked up nervously, realizing one of his squadmates had addressed him.

"Me?" the pirate inquired.

Anderson nodded. Shendra and Toni both looked up from their pacings, intrigued by the question themselves.

Kayleer pondered for a moment, surprised to feel a sense of curiosity from all three humans around him.

"I came here…" Kayleer paused, uncertain of how much he should reveal. "Because I saw your war and wanted to aid the effort to end it. That's all," he answered.

"Yeah, but any of us could say the exact same," Anderson cocked a brow. "I mean what made you suddenly care?"

Kayleer turned his gaze to the floor. "My people have done great evil to the human race. I had never known the extent of it until the Federation came to Aether. I think it's my inborn duty to help undo their damage."

Anderson nodded along, a bit disappointed with the vagueness of the answer.

"What about you?" Kayleer returned the question. "What motivates a human to go to war?"

Anderson laughed. "That's a pretty broad question. Some come because they feel it's their duty, just like you. Some join because they're bored, or because it's the only job they know how to do," he replied. "Some come for revenge. A lot of us have lost family, or friends. When the war hits close to home, it's one hell of a motivator," he gestured to his human teammates.

Shendra only shrugged. Toni seemed to take it as an offense, and cast a dour gaze on her squadmate.

"I haven't lost anyone yet," she replied indifferently. "She was only taken prisoner."

Anderson smirked, bemused by her reaction. "Prisoner? Since when do pirates take prisoners?"

Toni didn't answer, but Kayleer knew the words had elicited a reaction. Her mind was clouded with guilt, fear and denial, and Anderson's words only served as a trigger.

Anderson raised his hand in a gesture of dismissal. "Sorry, struck a nerve," he sighed. "Didn't mean to-"

"Be quiet," Toni spat.

"Hey no need to get hostile, we've all lost people. I was just trying to-"

"No, I mean it, be quiet," Toni repeated, her voice raised in alarm. Her eyes were locked upwards, and her three companions soon followed her ominous stare. The dull grey sky alighted with orange and yellow, tiny pinpricks of light scattered across the horizon like short-lived stars.

"What the-"

The team didn't have long to ponder before the hangar began to flash red, followed by the harsh, blaring sound of an alarm.

"Shit!"

Their assignment flashed across their HUDs, telling them where to go. They didn't stop to ask questions, following dutifully as their orders were given to them. The fire-lit sky began to bombard the planet's surface with various spacecraft; pirate fighters followed by their human opposition.

The silence and mundanity of a peaceful planet was soon swallowed by the cacophonous sounds of war. Fighter engines and plasma fire filled the air with deafening blasts, turrets rose from their rest and began to fill every enemy within range with weapon fire. The tandem calls of Kayleer's human teammates rang across the bridge as they coordinated their efforts, ready to defend. More troopers flooded in to join the barricade. Pirates roared in hate and bloodlust as they made planetfall, eager to sear human flesh.

Kayleer sneered right back as he raised his rifle to greet them. His shock dissipated as he readily came to terms with what was happening around him;

Norion was under siege.

* * *

659 waited impatiently as the ATC broke the planet's atmosphere. War was almost upon him, and the pirate's mandibles twitched in anticipation.

The aircraft kept a constant movement, dodging rounds of plasma and phazon as it scanned the area for its target.

* * *

Kayleer fell back with his squadron as a legion of pirates drove them against the generator. The invasion force was far stronger than any other he had fought before, and for the first time he began to fear defeat.

But the Commander and two other marines had been outfitted with PEDs, and easily turned the tide of battle with every bout of Hypermode.

Yet despite the power of Hypermode, they were vastly outnumbered. Only now did it become apparent just how much the pirate forces dwarfed those of the Federation. They easily outdid the humans in size, scale, and firepower, and it was only thanks to the PED that the Federation even stood a fighting chance.

Kayleer let loose a sizable barrage of plasma shots. It mattered little where he aimed it, for he was at the front line, and nearly surrounded. In every direction, his blasts met a mark, doing little else but slow the impending assault.

Kayleer was surprised to see his empathic tendencies stretched even to pirates. Every individual felt exactly the same; hateful, angry, sadistic and violent. It was a great contrast to the menagerie of emotions from the human side, and only augmented his will to fight back.

Very rarely did he feel fear from them. They did not doubt their strength, and Kayleer could easily imagine why. The phazon coursing through their veins lent them extraordinary power, and clouded their rational doubts.

The endless wave of pirates slowly began to dissipate. The bridge was scattered with bodies, human and pirate alike. For a brief moment Kayleer thought perhaps the worst was over, until he realized the pirates were mere grunts compared to what they had brought to follow.

The bridge began to shake with the footsteps of a titan. The doorway on the far side was blasted apart as the brute forced its way through. It let lose a menacing roar, casting its gluttonous gaze upon the human soldiers.

"BERSERKER KNIGHT!"

The panicked warning of one of Kayleer's squadmates rang clear across the bridge. His eyes widened in fear as he realized the creature was the very same he'd encountered on Sinensis, though far more complete and well-armored. It easily grabbed the nearest trooper and threw him off the bridge. The soldier's screams became quieter and quieter as he plunged to his death. The Knight began to rush the main troupe of marines, shaking the brigade off their footing with every step.

"Defend the generator!" the Commander called. The squad remained steadfast, concentrating their fire.

The Commander rushed ahead and punched in a code on his rifle. In an instant, his pack of phazon pulsed itself into his armor, lending him incredible strength. He unleashed a newly-powered round of phazon blasts straight at the Knight. It staggered backwards, but quickly regained its footing and came back full force.

Brady continued his assault, confused as to why his Hypermode shots had little effect. Very few rounds seemed to actually affect the Knight, and he was forced to retreat as the beast continued to come closer. He barely managed to dodge it as it lunged its arm forward to grab him.

The commander could see the Knight was mere moments away from laying waste to the entire squad. He was about to call out an order for them to fall back, but one of his teammates rushed forward from the brigade, launching herself straight at the Knight.

Shendra's armored form leaped onto the neck of the Berserker. She clawed her way upwards and dug her heels into its eyes. She pulled the phazite armor clean off its neck and rammed her rifle into its exposed flesh.

The Knight roared in rage, struggling to get the tiny human off itself. But its bulky arms were too long and muscular to even reach its face. Shendra dug her plasma rifle deep into its neck and unleashed a rapid succession of rounds. The Knight cried out in pain as blood bubbled up around Shendra's gun, flecked with luminous blue.

The Berserker began to sway, teetering towards the edge of the bridge as its sense of balance failed it. Shendra struggled to free her arm, finding the task was made nearly impossible by the constant movement of her opponent.

The Knight fell over the guardrail just as Shendra managed to free herself. She jumped off as it plunged down into the canyons. But her reaction came too late; she was not close enough to the bridge.

Her arm reached out desperately to grab the edge of the platform, but Kayleer could see she would not make it. Acting on pure impulse, he launched himself towards the edge and reached out his own hand to meet hers. His swift pirate reflexes lent themselves greatly to the task, and Kayleer felt a strain against his prosthetic pull him downward as he clasped his hand around Shendra's wrist.

She returned the grip and held on for dear life, glancing nervously southward at the gaping canyons far below. Kayleer tried to pull her up, but found her armored body far too heavy.

* * *

659's gaze widened. 215 was isolated on the far edge of the bridge. The pod opened to grant him his opportunity. He leaped forward from the ATC and onto the nearest platform, making a stealthy beeline through the girders towards his now-vulnerable target.

* * *

"_Hang on, I'll come up under you,"_ a voice called through their transceivers. Kayleer looked around frantically to find the source. Something black and distant shifted its course to come towards the bridge. A blast of blue light erupted from its extremities and felled two pirate ATCs, driving them into a collision. Despite its airborne disposition and powerful weapons, its movements seemed to indicate to Kayleer that it was a lifeform, not a craft.

He didn't know what it was, but knew from its actions that it was an ally. Heeding its words, Kayleer held on tightly and ignored the mounting pain in his shoulder as the marine weighed him down.

He could just barely make out the human's face beneath her cyan visor. She kept looking down, and then back to him. He could see the signs of fear in her expression. The black creature had nearly reached the bridge, and Kayleer counted down the moments for its arrival.

3, 2, 1...

Suddenly Shendra's eyes widened and her voice rang through his communications as well as through her helmet.

"Behind you!" she cried.

0! Kayleer felt an icy chill waft upwards as the creature came to a steady speed beneath him. He finally let her go, and let out a breath of relief as the bulky beast easily caught her and carried her away under the bridge.

As soon as he released her, Kayleer tried to reel around and heed her warning, but he was not fast enough.

He felt a scorching pain in his chest as something red and luminous penetrated the front of his armor; a blade had torn straight through his torso.

It lifted him upwards, into the air. He gasped in disbelief. The realization of what had happened hit him full force before even the pain did. He heard hollow laughter from behind him as the pirate taunted his victim. He pulled Kayleer away from the edge and kicked against his back to loose him from his energy blade.

The scythe retracted. Kayleer fell to his knees and clutched at the gaping hole it had left in his chest. Blood poured from the wound, blackening the steel beneath him. The sounds of the battle fell as incomprehensible noise upon his ears as he fell to the floor, desperately trying to deny what had happened.

* * *

659 watched in terror as an infected pirate withdrew his energy blade from the body of 215; he knew the death of his target meant his own.

He growled in frustration as the voice of 387 blared furiously through his transceiver.

"_You incompetent bastard! You were too slow!"_ 387 roared, his fingers tempted to punch in a fatal command to his nanites.

He stared with disbelief through 659's visor, nostrils flaring with the strain of his panic. But the scientist's eyes brightened as he observed the scene more closely, and took in the full medical significance of the wound.

The left side of 215's chest was agape and filled with blood. A lung had been punctured, perhaps more. But his heart was unscathed, and 387 clung desperately to the idea that he could be salvaged.

"_Now! You need to inject him NOW!"_ he cried to his servant.

659 frantically leaped down onto the platform. He held back in fear as a horde of infected rushed past him, towards the human barricade. But he reminded himself that he was not a target, and that they were the only things granting him an opening.

The Federation-armored pirate lay facedown on the platform, black blood pooling beneath him. With an urgency fueled only by a desperate sense of self-preservation, 659 thrust his modified rifle into 215's wound, being careful not to do any more damage than had already been done.

387 rapidly punched in commands to his nanites. 659 had successfully injected them, but it wouldn't matter if 215 perished before they had a chance to take effect. Responding to his remote orders, the tiny machines began to take up the purpose of gauze, slowing 215's bleeding and staving off the inevitable.

"Should I retrieve him for extraction, sir?" 659 inquired, eager to complete his task.

387 hissed in frustration as his machines gave him feedback. The wound was severe, and the escort had no way to treat it. His nanites could only do so much.

"_No,"_ he answered spitefully. "_The flight back would take at least 43 hours. He will be long dead by then,"_ he growled, digging his claws into his palm. He thought for a moment, planning the best course of action.

"_Surrender yourself to the humans, 659,"_ he ordered.

"What?!" 659 roared in disbelief. "I would sooner die by my own rifle than allow myself to be captured by Federation scum," he hissed.

387 met his disobedience with a swift order to his nanites. 659 roared in agony and clutched at his head. His vision hazed as the machines in his head forced him from the conscious world. He finally collapsed , falling to the platform in a shallow pool of 215's blood.

* * *

The last pirates on the bridge were soon filled with phazon rounds from the defending troopers. Brady and the other PED marines quickly laid waste to the rest of the assault, and with their defeat the battlefield grew quiet. The remaining marines rushed to aid those who had fallen.

Anderson's familiar voice rang in Kayleer's ears as he tried to help his comrade to his feet.

"Kayleer, can you hear me?" he asked. "Can you stand?" He offered his hand to the pirate.

Kayleer gasped for air, but felt every effort choked by a bloody spasm. He pushed Anderson aside as he willed his visor to pop open. He felt a rush of blood wretch forth from his throat, thick and black like tar.

"I need a medical assist!" his squadmate called.

Kayleer's mind was lost in a haze of confusion. He had felt something else puncture his body shortly after he'd been stabbed. Something cold and numbing that had spread out from his torso and dulled his sense of pain. He could barely feel anything anymore, but was fully aware that he was slowly suffocating.

What had happened? Had he been infected? No, there was no telltale feeling of burning.

Why was he still awake? Why was he even still alive? The pirate struggled to think and to breathe, but the amount of oxygen getting to his brain and body was woefully inadequate. He could feel himself start to slip. The feeling terrified him, for it only ever happened to a pirate close to death.

Yet something kept the pirate's sight and senses from failing him, and the hapless soldier found himself staring listlessly upward as he was carried away by his human comrades.


	30. P2: Chapter 12 - Failure

The scenery slowly shifted as Kayleer was taken inside. He could hear the sounds of humans, shouting orders, crying out in pain. But the cacophony was very different from that of the battlefield. There was no fighting, no blast of weapon fire. What he heard was merely the aftermath.

He could feel the pain of injured humans, and the controlled panic of their caretakers as they struggled to help them. Kayleer realized he was just another casualty, like them.

Finally he stopped moving. A voice addressed him.

"Kayleer, we're going to anesthetize you, please stay calm."

The pirate barely took in the haze of words. What did they mean? What were they doing, again? He didn't have long to ponder before he felt something cold pressed against his nares. A faint, sickly scent flooded his antennae and he almost immediately felt his senses begin to dull. Sounds faded, his world began to blacken.

But panic flared as Kayleer immediately assumed the worst. The pirate retaliated despite his waning strength. He tore the mask from his face and shook the small human arms free from his own. He lashed out violently as they tried to fight back, to force him into submission. The sharp metal of his prosthetic met the side of someone's cheek in a flash of human blood. The face winced in anger, clutching at its wound.

"SOMEONE KNOCK THE GODDAMN PIRATE OUT!"

With a collaborated effort, six pairs of human arms finally managed to push the weakened soldier back against the table. His legs kicked desperately in protest as the thin rubber pressed against his nares once more and filled his head with their deathly scent. His resistance slowly grew weaker until finally his limbs slackened and went limp.

His subject subdued, the human could finally do his work.

* * *

659 awoke to a blur of silver and blue. He focused his vision to the sight of Federation steel all around him. Blue lights illuminated the sterile room. The ambience made the pirate squint in discomfort as he struggled to remember where he was, or how much time had passed.

His swivelled his gaze around the room and flared his nostrils. He cringed as he took in the scent of humans, and noticed two armored marines standing watch over him.

His instant reaction was to bare his fangs and growl, to raise his rifle and fire upon them. But to 659's disdain his found his arms were bound. He realized he was reclined against a steel table, limbs fastened by straps of metal and hard light. Beside the table was some sort of human medical device, tipped with a tube and needle, its hollow center filled with something opaque and black. The needle lay adjacent to his arm, which throbbed with pain and swells. 659 realized with horror than an open wound was present in his exoskeleton.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!" he screamed, retching his body upwards as he struggled to free himself. The guards raised their rifles, fearful that their prisoner would escape. But despite his best efforts, the restraints held fast.

He flared his heat pits as he observed the world around him. His room was separated by others on both sides by thick panels of opaque glass. His thermal senses peered through them, and saw beyond to rooms filled with humans. Some were lying down, inert, others walked among them, pausing to tamper with them. A medical ward, 659 deduced.

Beyond the next room 659 could see a much cooler body. Its shape and signature were unmistakable, but the sight was strange enough to seed a sense of doubt in the pirate's mind. It was a pirate, like him, being aided by humans. 659 snorted in derision.

"Can anyone hear me?" he roared, wary of the marines standing guard. He didn't want to give anything away, in case they were translating his speech.

Silence greeted him as 659 realized he had been stripped of everything. His armor, weapons, even his communications. His body was wracked with sores from the forced removal of his equipment. He had been out much longer than he'd realized.

No one to contact, no way to defend himself, 659 was trapped.

* * *

The schematic 387's insider had provided him with indicated that both of his pirates were in a Federation medical ward. Many of his bloodborne nanites had been removed from one, and transfused into the other. 387 felt relieved that his choice to surrender 659 had not been in vain.

The clever little humans had discovered the still-breathing body of 659. Choosing to take him prisoner, the Federation's discovery that he was uninfected quickly lent itself to 215's aid; a life-sustaining transfusion of rare, untainted Urtraghian blood.

387 supposed the next step for 659 would be a brutal interrogation. He considered disposing of him, before anything valuable was expunged. But no, that would mean the task of escaping would be left to 215 alone. Once restored, he would be a target, and 387 refused to put someone as indispensable as him in the line of fire. 215 would have to wait a bit longer.

659 was defenseless, bereft of his equipment. His escort had retreated far into the canyons, feigning a crash for the sake of Federation lookouts. They were ready and waiting, but a successful retreat with 215 in-hand would be a tricky maneuver to manage. They couldn't go charging in alone; knowing Norion's defenses, they would be massacred in minutes.

But 387 still had one asset left unexploited, one which he was confident could weave in and out of Federation halls undetected.

* * *

The nocturnal life of Norion lit up the forests with a biological sky. The faint, alien songs of the residents' courting wafted through the air. The night shift had taken over the base, every bit as vigilant as the day, every bit as hard-working on the desperately-needed repairs from the battle that day.

The invasion had been quelled. Their greatest weapon had been dispatched before ever entering Norion's atmosphere. But that very same threat had taken up residence on two other planets in the same system, much to the Federation's despair.

But what mattered most was Norion. The only planet of the three with humans living upon its surface. It had been spared a terrible fate, and its inhabitants were slowly picking up the pieces.

One of the many patients who had gone critical the day before had finally stabilized, thanks to careful tending. His wounds healed at a rapid, inhuman pace.

659 had grown quiet. His roars of indignation had died down as he slowly succumbed to melancholy. He was helpless, and fervently wished his wretched master would put an end to his pitiful existence. He hated the humans for keeping him captive, but he knew full well that it was 387 who had put him here. 659 began to consider if perhaps his hatred was misplaced.

He had given up the fight. He had always been at the mercy of 387, and now he was at the mercy of the Federation. Despite the restoration of his memories, he had never truly been anything more than a slave. He didn't crave dominance anymore, he would be thrilled to simply have freedom, and nothing else. To flee, to be free from the wretched nanites, and live out the rest of his life without having to serve another.

The sound of sliding steel soon broke his troubled thoughts. Another pair of humans come to switch off duty with his guards, no doubt. He looked up listlessly to see another marine enter the room. The guards exchanged glances, confused at their presence. There was only one.

"You taking our shift? Where's your partner?" one of the marines inquired.

"I didn't hear any orders, you sure you're in the right place? What's your name and ID?"

The intruding marine didn't answer. They merely stood in silence, as if waiting for something.

"Hey, you mute or something? I said: what's your name-"

The marine's words were cut off as the intruder brought their left arm forth from behind their back. A pirate rifle met his armored chest at point blank, blasting him against the wall. His ally instantly reacted, raising his own weapon to fire, but the intruder cast the pirate rifle of their arm and straight at him, catching him off guard. What followed was a blue blast of plasma, which soon forced the guard to meet his fallen partner on the floor, steaming with energy burns.

659 gazed in surprise at the human which had just so easily taken down its allies. He considered for a moment that they had come to kill him, as well.

But the marine only walked up to a console, firing in a simple chain of commands. To 659's delight, the restraints which bound him unlatched. He eagerly tore himself from the table.

Something maroon and silver flashed through the air towards him. Instinctively he caught it, only to find it was his communications system, salvaged from his stolen equipment. He glared at the human who had thrown it, distrustful despite their supposed desire to aid him.

Carefully he placed the transceiver back in its place, unable to hold back a furious sneer as he heard 387's voice once again.

"_See now, I didn't surrender you without a plan,"_ he said coyly. "_Get 215 out of there, and meet the escort for an extraction. Our 'friend' will help lead you."_

The rest of 659's equipment was waiting for him in a disorderly pile. He had only his rifle, helmet and transceiver, and with a snort he realized it was all the tiny human could carry.

Obediently the pirate followed the marine's lead as they walked out into the medical bay, straight into the space two rooms over.

"What the hell?!" a medic's voice erupted with alarm as they entered. His voice quaked with stutters as he fell back in fear, terrified at the sight of his unwilling donor awake and alert.

But before the menacing pirate could make his move, the marine rushed the medic, reaching around to the back of his neck. With a single twist of the soldier's fingers, a wire tore loose from beneath synthetic skin, and the medic collapsed to the floor.

"H-how did you-" he stammered in disbelief, trying to move his limbs and run but found them pathetically immobile. The marine had known exactly how to subdue him.

At last there was nothing standing between 659 and 215. The Urtragian sneered in disgust at the sight of his body. Now bare of armor, he could see the hideous mutant in exacting detail.

His exoskeleton was covered in unnatural segments, dotted with red, luminous growths aligned almost mechanically in some sort of pattern. A tuft of alien fur jutted forth from his chest, resting above bandages matted with clots. His face looked as though it had been smoothed over with molten metal, boiling away all but two eyes. His snout was discolored, topped with tendrilly growths.

His complexion was soft, weak-looking. How the thing could ever be of value to 387 was beyond 659's comprehension.

"_What the hell are you waiting for? Grab him and __**get out**__,"_ a booming voice demanded.

659 leaned forward to grab the creature. He threw off the human device covering his face. He winced with revulsion as he picked him up from the table and slung him over his shoulder.

659 turned to his guide and awaited their instructions. The marine motioned with their hand for him to come forward, and so he did, following them through the steel corridors of the medical bay.

659 had never been in a situation like this- one that required human aid. As much as the idea repulsed him, he realized that both he and 215 had needed it. And their respective humans, surprisingly, were more than willing to help them - though likely for far different reasons.

215 was obviously a valuable ally to them. Why else would they treat him like one of their own? Thinking back on what he had witnessed in the medical bay, poisonous thoughts began to seed themselves in 659's head.

"387, can you hear me?"

"_Keep quiet before you get yourself caught," _he hissed.

"387, the humans…" 659 began, growling with instinctive distaste at the word. "They are willing to help even pirates, if we offer something in return."

"_Where are you going with this,"_ 387 growled, peeved that the lowly soldier was daring to offer him input.

"The uninfected are far too few in number to have an impact on the horde. We are far too weak to retake Urtraghus alone," he admitted. "Perhaps we can work out a deal, an alliance with the humans."

387 snarled. "_If you weren't carrying such precious cargo right now, I'd fill your head with hemorrhage for thinking such asinine thoughts."_

659 smirked, feeling the confidence to speak up now that he knew 387 wouldn't hurt him. "What's asinine about thinking strategically? If we barter our way into an allegiance, the Federation would help us. We share a common enemy!"

387 laughed, masking his fury with a thin veil of snark. "_Oh yes, what a splendid idea, pirates aligning themselves with the Federation. And what of the infected? Do you think they will allow us to cure them once we have an antidote? Do you think they would allow us to continue existing, knowing our intentions? Do you think they would not exterminate our small troupe of soldiers, once the horde is defeated? Your idealism is pathetic, criminally ignorant! The only alliance the Federation would make was one that aids the end of our people,"_ he finished with a hiss.

659 fell silent, he hadn't yet considered all those variables. "Then perhaps we could surrender to Federation rule, put an end to the conflict. Then they would have no reason to continue-"

659 halted as he felt a throbbing pain in his left ear. The drumming sound became louder and louder until it burst straight through his skull. He roared in pain. The inside of his ear had been torn asunder, leaving him part deaf. Blood trickled down his head and onto his shoulder as he clutched futiley at his head with his free arm.

"_We may be low in number," _387 snarled. "_But if you ever offer me such treason again, I will see to it your punishment is far more excruciating than any sentence before it."_

659 lowered his head and whimpered, feeling like a fool. He should have known what 387's reaction would be.

The pair had nearly reached an exit when the darkened hallways became alight with red; someone had sounded an alarm.

Panicked, 659 rushed outside. The ATC was waiting for him. Seeing their part was over, the marine turned and fled, not wanting to be caught. 659 could hardly believe his eyes when he saw the escort floating above a platform just within reach. But the sounds of footsteps soon shook him from his hope, as he realized the area was beginning to flood with marines.

They didn't matter, all that mattered was getting to the ship. He would climb aboard, the warp drives would fire, and they would be gone. He would be free-

But the telltale clank of a reactivated turret filled the pirate's ear, as he turned his head in horror to see two anti-air guns spark to life on the very same platform.

The ATC tried to flee, but was quickly downed by their rampant twin fire. A shot hit it square in the engine. The fuel gel ignited, and set the whole thing aflame. It rammed into the platform, shaking 659 off his footing as he halted himself, barely managing to avoid throwing himself and 215 over the edge. He watched as his only lifeline plummeted downwards, filling the night air with heavy flames and smoke.

The movement of footsteps stopped, and 659 turned to see a dozen Federation rifles aimed straight at him.

He roared in defiance and fear, knowing his position was hopeless. He pulled the still-limp body of 215 from over his shoulder and held him in front of him, like a shield. The soldiers' weapons faltered in their position just that slightest of bits; 659 had a hostage.

He peered over the edge, calculating his options. His gaze flickered from the edge and back to the marines. He threw 215 forward into the marines and leaped backwards. He threw away his rifle and freed his hands to grab for a steel girder. He slid down it onto another platform. He heard more footsteps batter the steel as more marines came to greet him.

Looking around, he spotted a door, sealed off with a lock. Alien warnings were plastered across it, illegible to 659.

He rushed to the door and pried his fingers between the metal seams. With panicked strength he began to force it open. He grinned as the sound of bending metal filled his only ear. The lock gave way, and he forced the door apart. 659 squeezed his way through, and the door slammed shut behind him.

He ran down the corridor, assuming that he would be followed. Finally he came to another platform, damaged from war and completely abandoned. He staggered forward, thinking that he had escaped. No humans had followed him here.

Panting with exhaustion, he slammed against a wall and fell into a slump.

"What do I do now?" he asked sarcastically, wondering if he'd even be able to hear 387's response after what he had done to him.

No answer came. Perhaps the scientist was busy trying to calculate a plan, or perhaps he had simply forsaken 659.

He used his solitude to catch his breath and think. Wondering what his next course of action would be. He considered surrendering himself, and divulging all he knew to the Federation in the hopes that he could work out a truce. But 387 would terminate him long before he would allow that to happen.

Though he had escaped one captor, he was still a hostage, and 659 could do little else but wait. He peered over the edge, finding the thought of throwing himself over a temptation.

Movement from the corner of his eyes delayed his decision. Something small and luminous crawled its way across the platform. 659 realized with horror that it emanated a sickly cyan hue.

He stood up and ran, hoping to find a door behind which he could seal himself. But the tiny creature moved far faster than him, and caught up in an instant.

The vicious creature's dagger-like teeth easily penetrated the pirate's exposed exoskeleton, just as it had done to thousands of others on his homeworld. The grub shrieked in ecstatic bloodlust as its venom drained into the wound. The pirate roared as he grabbed the tiny thing and squeezed it til it burst, leaving a vibrant splash of blue liquid all around him.

Another soon followed, then another. 659's furious attempts to quell them were futile, and he found himself unable to run, as he wasted all his efforts to fight them off.

He could feel the infection burning its way through his blood. He knew it was too late, and yet he desperately tried to tell himself that he could still escape. He ran, denying what had happened. He thoughts filled with fear-tainted lies, telling him that he could escape the inevitable if he only kept running.

387 sighed. Another failure - and this time they had gained nothing from it. The phazon would soon spread to his brain, and all of 659's secrets; the knowledge of 215, of the uninfected, their location and plans, would be revealed to the Dark Hunter. 387 couldn't allow that to happen.

The pirate sent a swift, remorseless command to his nanites, and watched the consequences unfold.

The tiny machines tore through his blood vessels and into his body. 659 cried out in agony as he felt his very flesh tear apart from the inside out. He stopped running and collapsed. The surface of his exoskeleton blackened as he bled out into himself. His eyes clouded and turned dark. Blood began to leak from all six of his blinded eyes, joining the growing pool beneath him.

His nares and mandibles too, began to dribble with blood as the inside of his head liquified and left him senseless. The pirate's heart beat rapidly as it struggled to deliver oxygen to his starving cells. But with nothing left to carry it, its contents simply spilled into his chest as his pulse finally softened and faded away.

Not a single soul on Norion would grieve the fallen stranger, and nature was left to its own devices as the grubs soon went to work on his corpse, joining together in the frenzy of feast.


	31. P2: Chapter 13 - Medic

The medic rubbed his aching neck. The makeshift repairs to his prosthetic seemed to have done their job. He was impressed that the bioengineers were able to work so quickly. He was a bit more twitchy than normal, but that was to be expected; he still needed to acclimate to the replacements.

His patient had been returned to the medical ward. He had remained unconscious for the duration of his capture, much to the Admiral's relief.

"So he doesn't know anything about what happened last night?" he asked, voice resounding through the monitor.

"No, sir," the medic answered.

"I see," the Admiral thought for a moment, making his decision. "Then I think it best that the details of the incident are kept under wraps, and that includes from Kayleer."

The doctor was stunned, curious as to why something so seemingly vital was to be kept from the army. "But why sir? Why withhold this? An uninfected subset of pirates coming between us and the infected? Going after the only Federation-supported pirate? T-that's huge! How can we keep this a secret?"

"No one but you and a few other medics know that pirate was uninfected," the Admiral explained. "And no one but those marines on duty in the lower levels know Kayleer was taken hostage. We will use the intel to our advantage, but I don't want this information leaking on Norion - is that understood?"

The medic shook his head in disbelief, sighing as he averted his gaze to the floor. "What about the marine… the one that helped the pirate? Our suspicions about an insider have finally been confirmed. I suppose you want me to keep that a secret as well?"

"I see no reason to do that," the Admiral conceded. "The soldiers of Norion have a right to know a traitor walks among them. They will be informed to keep a lookout for any suspicious activity, and security has already been approved to do a full investigation."

The doctor nodded, happy that at least some word of the incident would be out.

"The official story is that we had a pirate prisoner, he escaped and was killed. The pirate's condition and actions towards Kayleer - that is to be treated as classified information," he finished.

The medic removed his glasses and rubbed his face in frustration. The details of what and what not to talk about were thoroughly confusing him. He wasn't a good liar to begin with, but he wasn't about to challenge the Admiral's orders. "Yes, sir," he replied.

"I understand your reluctance," the Admiral's voice grew quiet. "The idea of a resistance existing isn't a huge revelation- but the fact that one tried to capture him… Well, we know why they're after him; he doesn't. I honestly don't know what his reaction will be if he finds out," he admitted. "As far as he's concerned, his species is a vicious horde of infected slaves out to kill him. I prefer we keep things black and white for him."

The medic cocked a brow. "You really think he'd turn on us and join them?"

The Admiral fell silent.

"I don't know."

The medic's hands curled around one another in a nervous twitch. The aches in his neck were starting to surge again, and he felt his extremities go through an involuntary spasm. He pondered briefly how trustworthy the mutant pirate truly was. He was certainly familiar with his past, violent self. But truth be told, he knew almost nothing about him besides his biology.

"The marines involved in last night's incident will be briefed as well. I'm trusting you to heed these orders."

The medic gave an exasperated salute to the Admiral. "Yes, sir," he repeated.

The Admiral nodded, and the transmission was cut, leaving the doctor in silence as he headed dutifully back towards the medical ward.

* * *

"Oh good, you're awake."

Kayleer's eyes opened groggily. He blinked, struggling to focus his vision from a haze of colors into something with meaning. His pupils dilated and shrunk, adjusting themselves to the flood of light that had interrupted an unusually prolonged darkness.

He shook his head, groaning with the dizziness it brought. "What happened, where am I?" he mumbled in Aetherian. The pirate had not yet regained his composure enough to realize the need for translation.

"What?"

Kayleer's eyes darted to the source of the voice. The human face looked familiar, and a lengthy gash was etched across his cheek. Kayleer realized it was the same he had struck not long ago.

He gestured to his own cheek, his expression piteous. "Did I do that?" he asked, his translator finally chiming in to aid the communication.

The human cocked an eyebrow, nodding.

"I apologize for having injured you," Kayleer said quietly.

The human sighed. "Yeah, well, wouldn't be the first time," he said dejectedly, turning his back to fiddle with a console.

"First time?" Kayler asked. Suddenly he realized why the face was familiar; he had seen it before, back when he had encountered the Federation for the first time.

"The proctor, in my interrogation," he realized, remembering how 215 had nearly murdered him, how his fingers had been coated in his blood. He remembered watching in despair as the human's inert body had been carried away as he sat in silence, grappling with his crime.

"Yup," the human answered, a bit surprised that the pirate recognized him at all. He suddenly remembered his resentment, and tapped the back of his neck. "Prosthetic spinal nerves," he explained. "Don't work as well as real ones but they get the job done," he said, keeping his back to the pirate. He pretended to work, pulling up vital signs and medical readings in an attempt to mask the dour, grieving expression on his face as he remembered what had happened. His hands twitched and he nearly lost his footing as he became unsure of his movements, stress inhibiting his control of the prosthetic.

Kayleer couldn't help but feel relieved that the human had survived. But he felt a painful jab of guilt as he realized he had severely disfigured him.

"I'm so sorry for what happened - for what I did," he rasped, not knowing what else to say. "I couldn't control myself and I..." he stopped short, feeling guilt at trying to make excuses.

The medic sighed, realizing his anger was harder to hold on to than he'd thought it would be. "Yeah well, that much is obvious."

Kayleer lowered his head, avoiding the medic's line of sight. His eyes caught on something soft and white. Fabric wrapped around his torso and back, forming a clean circuit of bandages.

"Did you do this?"

The medic peered back at the pirate, his expression turning neutral. "Not exactly, but I helped direct the medics who did. My hands and feet are too shaky, too unstable for surgical stuff anymore."

"Directed?"

"Oh, yeah," the human stammered. "I'm not really much of a medic to begin with, you know I'm more of a … specialist. Federation's leading expert on pirate physiology. I help with the interrogations, weapons development… and for the first time, actual medical assistance, apparently."

Kayleer stared down at the bandages, genuinely surprised that they had been able to help him. He had been almost certain he would die.

"But, it was so severe. I was hit at point blank… how was I even salvageable?"

"Oh uh," the human stuttered, pointing a shaky finger towards himself. "Pirates always aim for the same place. Right here," he gestured to the left side of his chest, just off-center. "That's what they're programmed for… the blow's supposed to go right through a person's heart, cutting it right in half. Instant death for a human."

Kayleer cocked his head, still confused. The doctor pointed to him, now.

"But pirates' hearts are way on the right, way off mark for that trademark stab, so it missed."

Kayleer laughed. "So one mistook me for a human?"

"I wouldn't say mistook so much as I'd say they didn't really think about what you were, and just went with the default stab treatment," he shrugged.

"But, I had lost so much blood. How did I recover from that?" Kayleer inquired.

The medic froze, biting his lip. "Supplements, synthetics, IVs, all that. Basic chemicals pirates use to make their blood. Put you on a supply of that and you did the rest," he lied, remembering the Admiral's orders. Cutting out mention of the uninfected prisoner also meant omitting the fact that it was his blood that saved him.

Kayleer nodded, placing a hand on his chest as though in disbelief that his heart was still beating.

"To whom do I owe my thanks?" he asked, a bit peeved that he did not yet know the human's name.

The medic looked up in surprise. He hadn't expected to have to introduce himself to the pirate. "It's uh, Ivan, Dr. Ivan Ashwitt," he answered nervously.

"Thank you, Dr. Ashwitt, I owe you my life," he frowned. "To come from you, after what happened...I only wish there was some way I could make things right."

"Don't worry about it, really," he rubbed his neck and shook his head. "You know, after the incident, I got on medical leave. Once the prosthetic was in… I couldn't move my body as well as I used to, higher-ups said they'd be downgrading my assignments as a result," he explained, cracking a weak smile as he locked eyes with his patient. "I would have been assigned to the Valhalla, but I ended up here instead. So I guess… that makes us kinda even."

Kayleer gave a nervous smile, uncertain if things were as even as the doctor would like to believe. But if the human was willing to put the past behind him, then so too would he.

"Thank you, again," he said, head lowered in a bow.

"Just doing my job," Ashwitt replied quietly. "I know it looks bad, but it's healed up pretty fast. You have two weeks of medical leave though, which is standard. You're free to go whenever you want."


	32. P2: Chapter 14 - Lieutenant Commander

"Not interrupting anything, am I?"

Kayleer's eyes flared open as his meditation was broken. He cast a startled gaze upwards at Shendra's armored form. He immediately became nervous, fearing another scolding.

"Lieutenant Commander," he stammered. "I-I'm not on duty right now, you don't-"

Shendra cut him off with a gesture of her palm, cracking a mischievous smile.

"Relax, I'm not here to reprimand you this time."

"I see," Kayleer calmed down, averting his gaze. He looked out across the vast forests. They stretched to every horizon, dyed a vibrant red as the setting star cast its last light over the landscape. He had thought the rooftops of the barracks to be a perfect sanctuary, but obviously he had miscalculated.

"Mind if I join you?" Shendra asked.

Kayleer realized he had little choice but to comply. "No, I suppose not."

Tentatively the marine joined him in his perch atop the platform. She gave him a cursory glance, trying to avoid staring at the conspicuous bandages that encased his entire chest. They were wounds he had willingly sustained for her sake, though she had no idea why.

"I owe you one for what happened back there," she said. "Thanks for that."

Kayleer nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the planet below. He wasn't quite certain how to accept her gratitude.

"How is it?" she asked hesitantly. "Your injury, I mean."

"I'm fine," Kayleer answered quietly. "The bandage is just for show, really; it's already scarred and healed."

Shendra cocked an eyebrow, bemused. "Just for show?"

"The medical officer suggested I wear it for a few days while my armor is repaired. He said it might look strange to the others if I, well-"

"If you walk around with barely a scratch after taking an energy blade full through the chest?"

He let out a nervous laugh. "Yes."

"Pirates heal pretty quickly, don't they."

Kayleer nodded. "They do."

It had been obvious to Shendra from the very start that her subordinate was a pirate. Yet equally obvious was the fact that his appearance was drastically different, his demeanor almost frighteningly human. It piqued Shendra's curiosity now more than ever.

"You never did answer my question, you know."

"What question?"

"Back on the Freyr, remember? I asked you what you were."

Kayleer blinked in surprise, trying to recall. He hadn't been sure before, but now, "I thought it was obvious," he said quietly. "I'm a pirate; an Urtragian. Why does it necessitate a question?"

Shendra gave him an exasperated expression. "Oh come on, there's more than that. Just look at your damn face, it hardly even looks like a pirate, and you definitely don't sound like one."

Kayleer felt grateful for her words. They seemed to put distance between him and the enemy, and he decided to open up that tiniest of bits.

"I was a slave, a miner," he began slowly. "I was wounded, and ran. Two Luminoth found me and restored me using their DNA. So...I'm what you'd call a hybrid, is that better?"

"Ah, that explains a lot, actually. I had my suspicions about that, what with all the…" she gestured to his antennae. "Mothy bits?" she laughed.

He smiled shyly but deigned to respond further.

"Why'd they want to help you, anyways?"

Kayleer was once again uncertain of the answer. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "Slaves are deliberately stunted mentally upon birth, and really can't do much to fend for themselves. Opposed to what I was before… I really wasn't much of a threat. Perhaps they saw that, and took pity," he reasoned.

"A Science Team member, right? That was what you were before?"

Kayleer gazed down into the vast canyons below. "Yes."

"You told me that you'd never held a weapon or seen a human before," Shendra recalled. "Was is true?"

"In a way," Kayleer answered. "I didn't remember anything about what I was before, back then. All I had was my life on Aether," he gave a snort of derision. "But I suppose having 'forgotten' isn't much of an excuse for lying, is it?"

Shendra shrugged. "If you really, honestly forgot everything, I don't really know if I can blame you."

Kayleer didn't answer. He merely took in her words, contemplating their meaning.

"Can I ask you something?"

Shendra turned her head to face him. "Yes?"

"You said I don't look like a pirate anymore," Kayleer said. "But I...I have honestly never seen myself, not clearly, anyways. What about me is different?"

She raised her brows in surprise. That someone could be ignorant to their own appearance baffled the human. "Well..." she tried to search for the right description. "You have all the normal anatomy of a pirate; you're tall, have those weird chicken legs, tiny waist, mandibles, all that. I think what's different is your face. Pirates have eight eyes, and a real ugly, gnarled face," she said. "Yours is actually not that hard to look at."

Kayleer laughed, uncertain if it was a compliment. "They're heat pits."

"What?"

"Two of the eight 'eyes', the back ones, they are heat pits, not eyes," he recalled, remembering his old senses.

"I didn't know that," Shendra admitted. "Well, pirates have huge teeth too, enough to dent armor. Your teeth? They're tiny, do you even have any? Pirates don't have antennae, either. And you've only got two eyes. They don't look like empty sockets like theirs, either," she paused, making eye contact so as to get a better look. "Yours look almost human."

A moment of silence drifted between them as they curiously exchanged observations.

"I mean, comparatively speaking," she finished, breaking away. "Objectively I'd say they look more like a reptile's or something. Your face reminds me of a turtle."

"A what?"

"Oh, it's an earth animal," Shendra explained, remembering the alien nature of her company. "They're little scaley creatures with protective shells. Really slow and harmless."

"They sound a bit like krocusses," Kayleer observed.

"No idea what those are."

"A native of Aether," Kayleer explained, staring off into the growing field of stars as though to find it. The sky had darkened as Norion's own star slowly dipped below the horizon. "They are everywhere in Torvus. During the mating season you cannot stray too far into krocuss territory without the risk of going deaf from their croaking," he laughed, nostalgia etched into his words. He quieted down. "The season actually starts a few days from now. I suppose this will be the first one I won't get to hear."

Shendra looked at him inquisitively, once more intrigued by the pirate's ability to defy her expectations.

"Do pirates get homesick, Kayleer?"

"Are you asking about me, or about my species?"

"Alright, I guess I'm asking about you."

"I suppose I do," he admitted, his voice trailing off. "I miss the marsh, my work, my family…I'm certain they worry, wonder if I'm even still alive."

"Well when this war is finished you can go home and put their worries to rest," Shendra smiled.

He smiled back. "What about you, Shendra? Where is your home?"

"Me?" she asked, genuinely surprised that he returned her curiosity. "Before I came to the Federation, it was a Station Colony, near Bes III."

"Do you have family there?"

She shook her head. "Not unless you count the Phrygisian nanny that looked after me and the other orphans. I'm sure I can visit her, maybe she'll remember me."

"Oh," Kayleer averted his gaze, suddenly feeling guilty. "I apologize, I didn't know-"

"It's fine. I don't really even remember my parents, I was too young to remember the incident," her expression turned neutral, and Kayleer was surprised that her words came without any definable emotion.

"Pirates?" he asked quietly.

She nodded. "Humans weren't the only ones affected. I grew up mostly with Phrygisian kids, it was just me and my brother, as far as humans go," she frowned. "Now that I think about it, the size and appearance difference must have looked pretty weird to outsiders, but I just got so used to it that I never noticed."

"Do any of those children still live there?"

"There were so many, and a lot of them were pretty hostile. I doubt I'd get any satisfaction from seeing them again. A lot of Phrygisians blame humans for bringing the war to their side of the cosmos. I always felt scared when I was living there, like one of the kids would freeze me in my sleep."

"Doesn't sound like much of a childhood," Kayleer observed.

Shendra shrugged. "But that's the thing, not all of them were like that. My brother though, he did his best to protect me, be my friend. He was a lot older than me," she shook her head.

"What happened to him?"

"He went batshit, that's what," she suddenly sneered. "One day everyone woke up to the news that one of the Phrygisian kids was dead- impaled with his own ice shard. My brother was caught at the scene, hands frost-bitten from having thrown it."

"He killed one of them?" Kayleer asked in shock.

Shendra nodded. "Said he did it in self defense, but he always hated them. He had this… grudge against anything non-human, for what the pirates did to our family. No one believed he wasn't the first to attack. He was arrested, put in a Phrygisian prison to await trial- and when you're one of the only humans on an alien world, things don't look too good for you."

Kayleer's expression turned empathetic as he realized the memories evoked a very angry response in Shendra.

"What happened after that?" he pried, fully curious.

"With him gone, the other kids targetted me instead. Told me they'd make humans pay for what they did to their brother."

"But, you weren't involved, were you?"

Shendra shook her head. "It didn't matter to them. As far as they were concerned, one human was as good as the next. I guess it wasn't too far off to what my brother thought of them."

Her demeanor changed again. The anger dissipated as she filled with gratitude and relief. "But, they were all wrong. We're not all the same, and neither are they. The only reason I got out of that station alive was because of a Phrygisian. He stepped in and defended me against his own. I never really learned who he was, what his name was," she admitted, expression turning contemplative as she seemed to remember something. "After that, me and my brother were both taken by the Federation. He was forced into a lifetime of military service for what he did on that station, and I joined as a volunteer."

"Do you still keep in touch with him?"

Shendra frowned. "He is a criminal, and I don't think I'll ever really see past that," she sighed. "He's in another unit. We don't really talk any more," she finished quickly.

"Sorry to hear," Kayleer consoled. He paused, thinking for a moment. "Phrygisians..." he repeated. "Is that what that black creature was, during the battle?"

Shendra nodded. "I guess that's twice I've been saved by an alien, three times if I count you."

Kayleer laughed. "Not so far off from my number."

Shendra smiled. "When you first showed up… I didn't know what to think. Every single pirate I've ever encountered has been a monster. But then you, you're different. It's just confirmation to me that species is a trivial thing."

"I certainly seem to act the part of a pirate sometimes," Kayleer admitted, remembering their meeting prior to the battle.

"You can lose a handle on your aggression, but humans do that too," she laughed. "But still, if one pirate can be like you, what if there were more?"

"More like me?"

"More pirates with a conscience," Shendra said.

Kayleer blinked, surprised at the description.

"It's an interesting thought. But I'm not certain it's feasible to go about converting every pirate to something genetically different."

"Probably not," Shendra shrugged. "But you're proof that it's possible."

Kayleer laughed. "And you're proof that humans can be rational, intelligent creatures. If only some others were more like you."

She cocked a brow, "You mean like Adelaide."

Kayleer nodded.

"I think after what happened on the bridge, he might start to change his perception," she shook her head. "After all these years, he hasn't changed. But seeing what you did first hand… I don't know, maybe it will get him thinking, at least."

A familiar sensation of anger and regret welled up from Shendra's mind, and Kayleer recalled having felt the same thing earlier in their conversation.

"Adelaide," he realized. "He's your brother?"

Shendra bit her lip and turned away, nodding.

"I never realized."

"Yeah well I don't want anyone to. It's bad enough we were put on the same team, I don't want people doubting my leadership because of some petty rumors about our history."

"I won't tell anyone," Kayleer assured her.

"Thanks," she said. She shook her head and laughed. "See, this is why he doesn't like you. Your personality is a challenge to something he's already cemented as fact. He's stubborn as all hell, and that's the kind of attitude that's just going to make this war last longer."

"You're assuming the outcome will be a peaceful one."

"Hoping, more like."

"I'm not sure your hope is justified," Kayleer admitted. "I can't see the pirates ever surrendering."

Shendra only shrugged. "I'll guess we'll have to wait and see."

Kayleer turned his gaze back to the planet's surface. The sky had long since blackened, and the trees were dotted with yellow lights as the nighttime fauna sparked to life.

Shendra had reclined against the platform, arm folded beneath her head. Her eyes had closed and Kayleer felt her mind begin to clear of conscious thought as she drifted into silence.

He had been peeved at her presence at first. He saw it as little more than an unhealthy distraction from very necessary meditation. It was all that was keeping him sane on this alien world, bereft of fellow empaths to balance his mind. Yet the human's presence made him feel much calmer than usual. There was no hatred towards him, no sense of vicious mistrust. Only a determined will to understand. It surprised the pirate that such a strange, almost Luminoth presence could be created by a human.

For the first time since he had left Aether, he no longer felt alone, and he readily joined her in the void as he closed his eyes and returned to his meditations.

* * *

A steady drum of fingers tapped on the console. They sent out a quiet rhythm, one that was sure to irritate other pirates, were there any in the room.

But 387 was alone, the last member of Science Team to exist without phazon in his system. His fingers had devolved to pointless, repetitive actions as they had run out of things to do.

He had used his nanites to perform a very thorough diagnostic, and with every new discovery, the scientist became more anxious. The brain of 215 baffled him for a good while. It was far different than any pirate 387 had ever examined. Only a portion of it was pirate at all, the rest reflecting a form and function entirely alien to him. He began to reevaluate if 215 had been tampered with by humans, after all. It seemed to 387 that the nature of his mutations were far too sophisticated to be carried out by the primitive members of the Federation.

Despite the setbacks the unexpected discovery had made for him, 387 was able to deduce what he needed. A small part of the pirate portion was entirely inactive. Blood ran through it, keeping it alive, and yet it was in a permanent state of stasis. Little electrical activity, with signals never being exchanged between it and the rest. 387 would merely need to awaken it. He was confident, then , that 215's true self could easily conquer the alien half.

The scientist had felt great satisfaction with his conclusion. Yet it was a bittersweet moment. For though he knew how to restore him, he had no apt opportunity to do so. 215 was trapped on Norion, and were he revived, 387 was certain he would give himself away. He would be captured, no longer considered an ally, and lower the odds even further that he could ever be retrieved.

When then, would his opportunity come? 387 had grown impatient, and with each passing day his small resistance was in greater danger. His miniscule troupe of ships was constantly on the move, using up their limited fuel in an effort to escape detection- whether it be from humans or infected pirates.

There was little else the scientist could do but wait. He would bide his time, and assure himself that soon the right conditions would present themselves.

The image on the datascreen began to shift, and 387's communications sparked to life as surveillance delivered a message.

"Sir, we've detected a phazon signature in the quadrant. It's closing in on the ship."


	33. P2: Chapter 15 - Mistress

"Federation?"

"_It is impossible to tell. The signature is so minuscule we thought at first it was debris, but it is displaying active movement."_

"Then shoot it down," 387 hissed.

"_It has not yet come within range."_

387 bared his fangs, wincing with frustration. Was it worth the fuel to enter warp speed and flee? Surely something the size of a human would be easily dealt with if it proved a threat.

"No, size is hardly an indicator of strength," 387 reminded himself, remembering how much grief the tiny Hunter had caused his people. And if this thing were powered by phazon…

"Send out an order to the battalion to warp to coordinates-"

"_Sir, the thing appears to be retreating,"_ his underling reported.

387 looked at the console, following the radar's report as it tracked the lifeform. It was indeed heading in the opposite direction, away from his ships. Just before it slipped out of scanning range, it disappeared entirely from the scanner. 387 sneered at his equipment's subpar performance.

"Are there any other signatures nearby?"

"_Negative, sir."_

387 pondered for a moment, realizing the obvious. "Then clearly it is off to report its findings. Our position has been compromised. Send out the order to warp to the following coordinates," 387 repeated, punching in a sequence of numbers to the console; one of the many relay points he had established outside of Federation space.

His orders were quickly received, and 387 soon heard the buzz of heating engines. But the subtle hum was violently interrupted with a resounding thunder, one that shook the whole ship and caused 387 to teeter slightly on his footing.

"What the hell was that?!" 387 roared to his subordinate.

"_Engine malfunction, Sir."_

"I'll have the head of whatever fool was in charge of maintenance," he hissed. "Dispatch a repair team immediately."

387 was enraged that such a vital system had gone awry. Whatever the phazon signature they had detected, it would surely return soon with reinforcements. What would happen if they were not relocated by that time?

Escape pods- they could evacuate to another ship. Abandoning an entire frigate seemed like a horrible waste of limited resources, but if it meant saving the troops and equipment on board, 387 deduced that it was well worth the sacrifice.

He weighed his options carefully, finding himself strained by the strategic thinkings.

The sound of heavy footsteps interrupted his thoughts. 387 reeled around in a panic, only to be greeted with the site of a Commando. The vivid blue of his phazite armor stood out against the stark red backdrop of the lab. The lengthy protrusions of his helm and shoulders made him an imposing figure, even to 387, and he couldn't help but feel the instinctive urge to bow his head in submission.

But 387 quickly shook that instinct and became keen to the dubious nature of his guest. He was wearing phazite, a substance strictly forbidden along with all permutations of phazon. The use of such material only brought with it the risk of infection, and it would only take one slip up to give away their entire operation to the Dark Hunter.

Yet this one had disobeyed. Surely he had planned this well in advance, to have stashed away and kept hidden his stolen armorsuit for so long. But even more worrisome was the fact that he had come to confront 387, alone. The scientist's heat pits flared as he took in the Commando's signature. With relief he realized that at the very least, this pirate was uninfected. 387 thought for a moment he recognized the individual Unit as one of his maintenance workers.

"What are you doing in my lab," he snarled. "You've no orders to be here."

The Commando let out an indignant growl. "The impudence of Science Team is truly boundless," he hissed. "You'd best adjust yourself to the line of command."

387's nostrils flared in confusion. "Is this a mutiny?"

The Commando paused, as though perplexed by the accusation. "No member of Science Team will ever be fit for leadership," he explained. "But if you fancy yourself worthy, I will gladly fight you for the title," he hissed, flashing his twin set of luminous blades.

Realizing he was hopelessly outgunned, 387 had no choice but to submit. He held back a sneer as he took to his knee and bowed.

"Good," the Commando smirked. "I've grown sick of seeing to the demands of a useless leader. One who clearly knows less about strategic planning than he does of his own scientific research," he berated. "Our troops are desperately in need of upgrades. How can we expect to defend ourselves without phazon weaponry? We can easily procure it, and you have yet to even mention the idea. Do you even know the coordinates of our homeworld?"

387's eyes widened with shock. "You plan to return to the Homeworld?"

"I'm asking if you've even the wherewithal to know where it is located, Unit."

387 grew tired of the pirate's taunting. The notion of returning was a suicidal one, and he quickly realized this cocky fool would lead the uninfected to ruin.

"Are you insane?!" he snarled, standing upright.

The Commando approached him, thrusting his arm forward and clasping it around 387's neck. He raised his blade against it and twitched his mandibles in menacing threat. "I won't ask again," he hissed.

387 sputtered and growled. He didn't understand the Commando's intentions. What satisfaction was there in getting him to recite a simple sequence of coordinates, easily accessed at any terminal? He supposed a Commando's mind was far more simplistic and quick to vanity than that of his own.

"Of course I know," 387 growled quietly. "Urtraghus; galactic coordinates 494.126, 850.455, 62.894, of the fifth spiral arm. Third in orbit about our home star, Xanthus."

"Perhaps you are not as ignorant as you've seemed," the Commando sneered. "Now, you will set a course for the Homeworld. We shall be returning there to arm ourselves adequately."

His grasp slackened, and 387 was freed. This one was clearly insane to want to return to the very epicenter of phazon infection. But the scientist knew he would gain little from objecting.

"Yes, Sir," he said. He walked calmly over to the console. He quickly began to type in a message to his crew, hoping desperately that he would be able to finish in time before the Commando took notice.

The pirate was keeping a watchful, paranoid gaze upon him. But to 387's surprise, he seemed utterly unfazed by the nature of his typing. Anyone looking at the screen would be able to quickly read and decipher his intentions. It was as though the Commando was completely illiterate, and 387 laughed at the thought.

387 made sure that voice communications were disabled as he gave a fraudulent message. "Set a course for Urtraghus. As soon as the warp engines are repaired, we will return there."

As his growled out false orders, his fingers were busy at work sending out information on his situation. To his relief, it seemed that the rest of the crew were not yet behind the mutineer. 387 only hoped that they too were not deceiving him.

The Commando nodded, thinking that his orders were met. 387 was baffled as to why he bore no reaction at all to what he had just done. Was he truly that unobservant?

"How long until the engines are repaired?" he demanded.

"They should be functional within the next few hours," 387 fabricated, walking slowly over to the laboratory exit, away from the Commando.

"Where are you going?" he growled.

387 deigned to answer, grinning with relief as he heard armored footsteps from outside. The door slid open, and a troop of soldiers flooded inwards, rifles primed.

"What are you waiting for?! Open fire!" 387 roared. His soldiers immediately obliged, catching the Commando off-guard. He hissed in fury as he tried to return fire, but found the barrage of rounds too much to handle. His ornate helm shattered as it became overwhelmed with plasma fire. The Commando shrieked, loosing a high-pitched and alien sound through the lab.

In an instant it was over. The Commando fell to the floor and lay inert. The barrage of plasma stopped, and the room became quiet.

But 387's grin quickly disappeared as the mutineer's body began to glow. The laboratory floor became alight with a violet luminescence as vivid bolts of energy lashed out around it. The pirate's form shrank and shriveled away, revealing a vaguely humanoid shape.

Alien laughter erupted from the rosey creature. It stood up, revealing a steely blue chestpiece, unmistakably Federation in origin. Her face and figure mimicked that of a human female, but her jagged crown and ghostly transparency easily set her apart.

Confused and frightened, the brigade once again open fired, but this time the creature was ready. Her form shifted again, quintupling in size as she took the form of a Berserker. She rushed the unsuspecting pirates, armored plating easily rebounding their shots.

387 couldn't fathom the combat ability of one who could so easily take the form of other creatures. Taking advantage of his proximity to the door, he fled. He heard the roars of his dying comrades from inside the lab and winced in anger as he realized they had just lost an invaluable amount of uninfected blood.

He ran to the nearest console and entered an evacuation order. It seemed they would need to abandon the frigate after all.

The hallway lit up in alarm as 387 followed his own orders and rushed towards the escape pod room. He heard the lab door bursting open behind him as something large and powerful forced its way through. He tried to ignore it, and focus on what lied ahead, but his pursuer quickly caught up.

Quiet laughter echoed around the fleeing pirate. His pursuer goaded him as she easily moved like vapor through the halls.

"Behind you."

"No, in front of you."

"I'm over here," she cackled.

387 tried fruitlessly to pinpoint its source, only for it shift yet again. Disoriented, he changed direction, and felt a bout of relief as the voices died down. But 387 soon heard a hissing screech and stopped dead in his tracks as something bulbous and green rushed past him and blocked his path.

Four fangs twitched beneath its gelatinous body. A trio of hearts crackled with violet energy inside it. The creature lit up a long-forgotten terror in 387's mind, and he knew exactly what it intended.

But despite its appearance, 387 knew its true nature. The creature had made a point of exposing its true form before it attacked, and seemed to take a certain pleasure in taunting. Perhaps he could use the creature's own vanity against it.

"Is this the form you've chosen to kill me?" he asked. "It is far less pleasing to look at than the form you took earlier."

The creature flashed its fangs, but hesitated, floating in place and contemplating its foe's words.

The thing let out a quiet snicker. 387 grinned as it glowed an eerie violent and returned to its humanoid form.

"So the pirate has a preference, does he?" she hissed in an Urtragian voice.

"Females of our species are long extinct," 387 explained. "To hear the voice of an Urtragian coming from something so pleasantly female is quite a gift."

"How sweet," she smiled coyly. "If only you weren't so hideous to look at yourself, then killing you might not be so easy."

"Harsh words," 387 feigned a sullen expression, crouching once more to his knees and putting his claws up in a gesture of surrender. "I don't suppose there's anything I could offer in exchange for my life?"

The creature cocked a brow and smirked, amused. "You're smarter than most pirates, I'll give you that. I was sent out on a mission to locate your little homeworld. They offered me a hefty bounty for it, and you were so easy to siphon that info from. What could be worth more to the Federation than the location of this… Urtraghus, was it?"

387 shivered with fear at the realization of the creature's intent. Her smile flickered as she cast her eyes off to her side. 387 followed her stare as she gazed upon three oncoming pirates. Her form instantly began to shift in preparation, but 387 quickly took advantage of her moment of vulnerability between morphs.

In an instant, he drew his blade and slashed it sideways, into her shifting chest. To his disdain, it phased right through her, But the blade made contact with something solid as it neared her center. He left little more than a sizable gash in the steely side of her chestplate, and 387 winced with disgust as he withdrew his blade, dripping with phazon.

Her morph halted and disappeared, leaving her in her humanoid form. Her eyes filled with hatred as she scowled at 387 before falling to the floor, clasping at her chest. Suddenly her body began to glow livid blue. Greedy tendrils of phazon erupted from her transparent skin as she was forced into involuntary Hypermode.

"Get going!" 387 hissed to his troops. They cautiously obeyed, doing their best to avoid the corrupted form of the enemy. 387 eagerly followed his brethren, looking back in fear to be sure the intruder did not follow. Her hollow shrieks filled the halls with the promise of vengeance as he at last made his way to the escape pods, and left the frigate behind.


	34. P2: Chapter 16 - Respite

Overloaded with power, the huntress screamed as she forcibly vented the phazon from her system. A massive cloud of blue exhaust erupted from her body, shattering every screen and window within the hall.

The force of the explosion sent a rift through the frigate. It coated the walls with contagion and left the ship exposed and open to the void.

She had very narrowly escaped full corruption. Though she felt like a fool for having left herself so vulnerable, she supposed the destruction of an entire frigate was well worth calling the mission a victory.

Moreover, she had retrieved the information she needed. All that was left to do was travel to the source and confirm it; she didn't want to risk reporting false findings.

Finding the strength to stand, she rose. She left the derelict vessel adrift and set a course towards the far-off world the pirate had called Urtraghus.

* * *

He was nervous; a familiar feeling of self-doubt and fear that he always seemed to carry in any casual interaction with another being. It was perhaps even more prevalent now, since this one was a human, even more far removed from him than a Luminoth.

He briefly reflected on his fear as he stood motionless before the door to her barrack, lined up with a hundred others, close together, cramped and small, but private.

Before he could make the decision to knock, the door slid open. His commanding officer stepped out, stopping short as she stared upwards at the unexpected visitor lurking outside her room.

"Kayleer? What's wrong, you need something?" she asked, surprised to see him.

The pirate didn't respond, finding himself just as surprised. He realized it was the first time he had seen her unarmored, and he was shocked to find that she was even smaller than before. A sizeable bag was slung across her shoulder, and she looked to be preparing for something.

"I was wondering if you would join me on the roof again."

She cocked a brow at the unusual request from her subordinate. "Sorry, I can't. I was just about to head to a training session," she answered.

"Ah, alright," Kayleer said, disappointed. He sneered as he felt the bitter presence of someone else behind him, and turned to meet the glare of a familiar teammate, clad in much the same gear as Shendra.

"What are you doing here?" Adelaide grimaced.

Kayleer frowned, "I was just leaving."

The human narrowed his gaze as the pirate left, suspicions mounting. "What was that about, what did he want?" he asked.

"Nothing, don't worry about it," she answered, peeved at his demanding tone. "Are we going to the training rooms or not?"

Adelaide nodded, following her lead as she headed down the ramp. It was obvious to him that she didn't want to pursue the issue any further, but he couldn't help but let his paranoia get the best of him.

"What was he doing outside your room, did something happen between you two?"

"No. Calm down," she answered.

"Then what was he doing there?"

"I don't know," she sighed, exasperated. "Something about wanting to talk."

"Talk about what?"

"Probably something about overthrowing the Federation and taking over the galaxy, I'm sure," she scoffed.

"Yeah that's funny, really fucking funny," he answered angrily. "You know, it's especially funny when there's a confirmed spy in our ranks, spilling vital intel to the pirates."

"You know it isn't him," Shendra replied.

"How the hell would you know?"

"There were eyewitness accounts about the insider from several sources. You really think they'd fail to notice the particular trooper was a pirate? Even in armor, they're not exactly hard to tell apart from humans."

"Right, well how do you know there's not more than one? That's the perfect cover, isn't it, have a human on your side so no one suspects the obvious?"

"Were you not there when he took a damn scythe to the chest?"

"Yeah, and he survived it, now didn't he? It's all a show. That whole mess on the bridge was."

"Adelaide-"

"You're going to get yourself hurt, you know. You want to end up a cripple like Ashwitt?"

"Adelaide, stop," Shendra sighed.

He chortled, casting his arms up in gesture and letting them fall to his waist. "How am I the only one that sees this?"

"What is it going to take for you to leave him alone?" Shendra rubbed her head. "It's bad enough I have to deal with your damn bickering when you two are on duty, now I have to get grief over this when I'm on break."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend your alien boyfriend, Lieutenant Commander," he sneered. "Wouldn't want to make you have a few suspicions and maybe ask some questions when you're off alone with him, doing god knows what. Or, hell, maybe you're in on it too, chatting it up with him about what you're going to tell his pirate buddies next."

Shendra scowled, her eyes flashing with anger as he cast his accusations on her now. Restraining herself, she took her equipment off from over her shoulder and shoved it roughly into his hands. "You know what, Stevens? You can train alone." How foolish she had been, to try and rekindle good feelings between them.

"Shendra, wait," he protested, quickly regretting what he had said. He shuffled forward, finding the added weight of her equipment a bit much to handle. He paused to put it down as she disappeared down the hall.

She certainly didn't relish in the idea of having to speak to Adelaide; to hear another meaningless apology that was more for his sake than hers. Perhaps she wanted to spite him, or perhaps she truly preferred the pirate's company to his. Whatever the motivation, Shendra quickly retraced her steps from the day before, and made her way to the roof.

She stopped at the door. "Are you kidding me?" she spoke to no one as she gazed outside. Her viewed was hazed by a mat of droplets that trickled at a constant pace down the glass. The pirate was sitting on the edge of a platform, seemingly oblivious to the downpour that pelted against him.

But Shendra could hear Adelaide's frantic footsteps against the ramp a level below; he was running after her. Getting a little wet seemed like a pleasant alternative to dealing with him, and so she quickly punched in a command to the roof access and let the door slide shut behind her.

"Don't you want to go inside, you know, where it's dry?" she asked from the shelter of the overhang.

The pirate's head turned to greet her. "Why would I want to be dry?"

Shendra smirked, shaking her head. She rested her back against the dry steel wall. The downpour had begun to lessen just that smallest of bits.

"I didn't realize humans hated rain. Aren't you mostly made of water?"

"Something like that. Doesn't mean we like being cold and soaking," she retorted.

"My apologies, then. You don't have to stay."

"It's fine. Better than the alternative," she muttered, swallowing her instinctive displeasure as she made her way out onto the platform and sat down against the damp and slippery steel.

"Training is that stressful, is it?"

"When he's giving me the kind of crap he was, I'd rather skip it," she shook her head. "I'm his commanding officer, he's the one who should be running away."

"I suppose the relation has a bit less power than it would between two who were not siblings."

Shendra only shrugged. "So why did you want to meet me? Is there something you wanted to talk about?"

"Not particularly, no."

"Then why'd you call me up here?"

Kayleer hesitated, thinking of an answer. "I enjoy your company. It helps keep me sane," he replied,

Shendra laughed, wondering if the pirate was joking. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not sure if I could explain it well to a human," he admitted.

"Try me."

Kayleer wondered briefly how to put it in layman's. "Luminoth can sense one anothers' state of mind. It's part of everyday interaction," he began.

"Okay… so what, they can tell if someone is sad or happy? Humans can do that too. Unless you have a skill for hiding it, it'll show pretty easily."

"Not just that," Kayleer explained. "When one individual is sad or happy, others not only observe it, but feel it as well. The basic emotion is transmitted and shared."

"Alright…" Shendra trailed off. "I'm guessing you're telling me this because you have that sense too. What's that got to do with me and preserving your sanity?" she chided.

"A Luminoth without friend nor family, or who exists in isolation, almost certainly goes insane. The mind deteriorates."

"Luminoth are pretty touchy, aren't they?" Shendra laughed. "So you were going insane from loneliness, coulda just said that from the beginning."

"It makes sense, then?"

She nodded. "So then, what? Me being around and letting you share what I'm feeling helps you maintain your sanity? I'm… not sure how to feel about that," she scoffed.

"I wish that I could reciprocate and help you understand," Kayleer replied. "But you don't have a Luminoth's senses."

"I don't need to be a Luminoth to enjoy the company of a friend," she shrugged. "Even if he did drag me out into the rain."

"I appreciate it, really."

She knocked him on the arm. "I figure it's only in my duty to keep you from going insane if I can, right?"

"Yes, sir," he answered, cracking a mischievous smile. His smile faded as Shendra stood up, glancing back at the door.

"As much as I don't want to deal with Adelaide, I do need to get some training in before tomorrow. Want to take his place as my spotter?"

"Ah, sure," Kayleer answered, uncertain what the role entailed. "What comes tomorrow?"

"I'm trying not to be too public about it unless I'm successful," she explained. "But I'm applying for the PED program."

A cold feeling spiked through Kayleer's chest as he found himself in a sudden panic. "What? Why?"

"Why? Have you seen what those troopers can do? What Brady can do?"

"I have," he answered. "I've also seen what phazon can do. It corrupts. It creates monsters, it burns away every fibre of your being." He held up his arm. "Phazon cost me a limb. It's dangerous. And you're going to allow it to be so close to you?"

Shendra held up her hands, willing him to calm down. "I can't say that's the reaction I expected from the one who gave us the key to make them."

Kayleer shrunk back, realizing the hypocrisy. "The PED might be a necessary tool for the Federation to fight back, but…"

"But what?" she inquired.

"But it's still a risk, one that every trooper who uses one is taking. I just don't want to see you at risk too," he admitted.

She smiled, flattered. "I appreciate the sentiment, but there's never been a case of a marine suffering phazon sickness. I'm a lot more likely to get speared by an energy blade than I am to get corrupted. And having a PED will lower the chances of the former."

"I suppose," Kayleer admitted. "But the program is still relatively new. Accidents are bound to happen."

Shendra sighed. "Look, I'm flattered that you're concerned, really. But you don't need to worry about me, I'll be fine, and our team will be a lot better off with the boost in firepower."

Kayleer averted his gaze to the ground, finding little solace in her words.

"Try not to worry too much, alright? Your paranoia's starting to remind me of my brother," she smiled before turning her back and finally departing.

He nodded, and watched her leave. The drizzle had started to dissipate, and the comforting cover of rain had left the station quiet and damp. He retook his place atop the platform, a bit disheartened that Shendra had left him feeling even worse than before.

* * *

_Hunter Gandrayda, Federation Information Capsule 5.6.829_

_After the incident aboard the Frigate, I thought I had spent enough of the phazon to move on. The PED's safety vent, surprisingly, still functioned, and I deemed it unnecessary to seek repairs. I followed the pirate's coordinates to his homeworld. It seems that, Urtraghus, as he called it, has also suffered a Leviathan impact. It appears far more progressed than that of Bryyo or Elysia._

_The bad news is, being so close to it, it seems to be effecting me. I'm starting to slip. The medical officers were idiots to tell me the phazon had no negative effects. Maybe not physical… but mental. The stuff is driving me insane. I'm not sure how much longer I can handle it. I can't control it anymore._

_Maybe the medics who worked on me can help. I'm sending this out on an emergency communications capsule along with the data I collected while in orbit above the Homeworld. I only hope you find it and send help before -_

_End Transmission_


	35. P2: Chapter 17 - En route

Despite his doubts about the competence of human mechanics, Kayleer could barely tell the difference once he reclaimed his repaired armor. The same could not be said for his own body, which now bore a conspicuous scar. His exoskeleton had regenerated, dark and discolored; a blackened streak across his chest and back. It only served to remind him how very close he had come to the brink.

Days passed as the Federation received the uncommon grace of favorable news. Bryyo and Elysia had been spared of further corruption, and the Federation was making plans to eliminate the third and final source.

Barely any notice was given to the soldiers before they were rallied en masse to every flagship and carrier that could take them. It came as a shock to every marine where exactly their destination was.

"What did they call it? Ur-chrag-us or something?"

"No, it's called the Pirate Homeworld."

"I know that, I'm talking about the actual name of the planet."

"The only ones who gave it a name are the pirates. You're using _their_ language when you say it," Adelaide sneered.

Anderson only shrugged. "It's hard to pronounce anyways," he said, leaning his back against the hull. He glanced out the window, out into the bleak, featureless backdrop of distorted space.

"Maybe if you split your jaw in two and start growling, it'll be easier," Toni suggested.

"Sounds like a lot more pain than it's worth," Anderson laughed. "Err-trag-hus," he tried again. "Urtraaaggis. What do you think, Kayleer, am I doing it right?"

Kayleer frowned, taking offense. "I wouldn't know, I don't speak their language."

"Tch," Adelaide shook his head, breaking the light-hearted tone. "Now you're just trying too hard. How do you not speak your own language, let alone know the name of the planet you were born on? At least make your story make sense."

"I was born on Aether. The Pirate Homeworld holds no meaning to me," he replied.

"Right, I'm sure," Adelaide conceded, averting his gaze.

"Nice to see you two finally getting along," Anderson smirked.

"And they should," a voice interjected. The squadron looked up as Commander Brady and Shendra both made their way down the ramp. Vivid blue light emanated from the sizeable packs on their shoulders, which only seemed to make them more imposing to their subordinates.

"We can't afford to be fighting amongst ourselves, especially not on this mission," Brady reminded them.

"The Admiral wants us on the task force to the Seed," Shendra reported, quoting the briefing. "We'll be helping the Demo squad make it safely through."

"I finally get to be part of an invasion, and I'm stuck with an escort mission? Gimme a break," Adelaide complained.

The marine yelped in pain as an armored hand knocked against the back of his head. Anderson shook his head and glared as he withdrew his arm.

"Make no mistake, Stevens. We've been assigned to one of the most heavily guarded regions on the planet. The only reason we're not on the front line assault is because the Admiral's saving his best assets for where they're really needed. Hell, he put Samus Aran on as part of this escort mission. We'll be going in ahead of her."

"How are we one of his 'best assets'?" he asked.

"Two PED marines on one squad. That's two more than most," Shendra answered simply.

Adelaide sneered, looking down. More PEDs had been issued than ever before, and he still hadn't made the cut.

"Wish there were more of those to go around," Anderson sighed.

"We all do," Shendra admitted.

"Easy for you to say," Adelaide mumbled.

The Lieutenant Commander shot him a glare, but deigned to respond.

"There's a little less than 12 hours left in the transit. You all should try to get a good rest in the stasis chambers before then," she advised.

"Roger that," Anderson said gratefully. "Being on armed standby the entire trip is a pain in the ass," he said, rubbing his back. Like everyone else, he hadn't fully removed his armor in nearly three days, even while resting. The fact that there hadn't been a single attack in that time only made the entire effort seem worthless.

Brady led the team away. His second-in-command looked back in annoyance; one member had stayed behind.

"That means you too, marine," she said.

But the pirate remained stubbornly put. "You know I don't sleep," he reminded her quietly.

"I know," she replied. "But we should stick together. Less hassle to get organized once the time comes."

Kayleer shook his head. "How do humans do it, Shendra? How can they act so carefree when they're about to go to war?"

She only shrugged. "It's a coping mechanism, I guess."

"Do they fail to realize the threat? The Federation has never set foot on the pirates' Homeworld before, they do not know what awaits them in that corrupted cesspool of a planet!"

"And you think panicking about it is going to help?" she asked, voice lowered to a hush.

Kayleer realized he was much louder than he would have liked, and quickly adjusted his tone. "No, sir," he replied.

"Then calm down. This is basic psychology; one person gets scared then everyone does. We don't need that right now."

"They are already afraid," Kayleer responded. "Even you are. You are merely hiding it."

She hesitated, resisting the knee-jerk reaction to take offense. "Of course we are. That's just instinct, you can't hold that back. But part of being human is overcoming instinct."

"Part of being human?" Kayleer smirked.

"Might be a bad choice of words," Shendra admitted. "Part of being intelligent, then, self-aware? You're a damn pirate fighting for the Federation, you know what I mean."

He laughed. "I suppose you're right," he said. "Though the pep talk doesn't do much good when I merely magnify what everyone else is hiding."

"Fair enough," she shrugged, looking over her shoulder. "Well unlike you, I do need sleep. You can stay here and do… whatever it is you do. Just promise you won't make me go on a scavenger hunt for you once we're ready to launch."

"Of course," he agreed.

She smiled weakly, and with a wave of her hand, she left the pirate in silence.

* * *

"No…" 387 sneered. He didn't want to believe it was true. But the report of the insider coupled with his own readings of where 215 was headed easily put his denial in place.

The Federation was going to invade Urtraghus. What a fool he had been, to so easily divulge its location to the enemy. And then to fail to dispose of her, of all things!

"No… if I had not done it then she would have gotten it from someone else," he protested. "If we had stayed to kill her, what's to guarantee that none of us would have been infected? She could have easily wiped out the lot of us had we not fled!"

387 looked around, as though expecting someone. He quickly calmed his senses. There was no High Command to scold him. There was no superior to punish him or place blame, and so there was no need to make excuses. He often forgot, for the response was so deeply hard-wired.

The Federation would destroy the Seed, no doubt, and for that he supposed he should be grateful. Stopping the spread of phazon would free Urtraghus from its venomous grip. It would revert back to its previous state, in time.

But they would do much more than that. The humans would see to it that Urtraghus was conquered. They would exterminate the pirates living there, infected or not. Perhaps in time, they would even transform it; putrefy it into a homeworld of their own. 387 shivered at the thought.

There was little he could do. He couldn't warn his infected brethren, though he had no doubt the spy's information had reached them as well. Offering assistance would only waste valuable troops, and his forces were pathetic in number enough as it was.

Ravaged with panic, the scientist very nearly overlooked the one benefit his blunder would have;

Both sides would be distracted with the turmoils of war, and 215 would be among them.

With his homeworld at the eve of its demise, 387 refused to lose any more. Hesitantly, he activated the ship's communications. This time, the order was genuine.

"Set a course for Urtraghus."


	36. P2: Chapter 18 - Assault of Urtraghus

A far reach beyond Federation space, an alien planet orbited an unnamed star. The ship began to slow, and the blank distortion within view coalesced into unfamiliar constellations.

The pock-marked surface of the Pirate Homeworld steadily slid into view, red like boiling iron and covered in a thousand years of scars. A wasteland, supporting naught but vermin.

No sooner did the planet appear did the sky alight with weapons. Whatever little sound the thin exosphere could carry was soon filled with the muted barrage of plasma and fire from a thousand guns.

A single human was already planetbound, having completed her latest objective. The thick shield of hard light above the planet's heartland was lifted, and the Federation began their long-awaited assault.

While the vanguard engaged the ships in orbit, the second force began to make planetfall. Barreling through the opening the Hunter had made for them, they arrived en masse, the blues and silvers of the Federation armada flooding the bloodred surface of the pirates' fortified home.

"Everyone ready?"

"It's about _damn_ time we brought the fight to them," Adelaide decreed impatiently.

Kayleer nodded, for the first time in agreement with him. The ship rocked forward, and a resounding explosion echoed from outside as it fired upon the surface, clearing out the pirates onguard.

Each of the eight members of the squadron stood at the ready, lined up with two others. The hull finally opened, and the platoon rushed out onto the damaged surface of the enemy homeworld.

The escort waited until the platoon reached the sheltered halls of the cargo bay before lifting away, back into battle. Rain pattered the metal surface of the overhang, and the familiar sound almost reminded Kayleer of home. But he reminded himself that the rain here was toxic, and would burn his skin away at the touch. Urtraghus was anything but home.

They were the first wind sent through the skyway. The troopers' advance was immediately met with resistance, as wave after wave of pirates came forward, eager to defend their post.

Kayleer's rifle lit up with plasma. But these pirates were far more well-armored than the infantry he was used to, and his fire seemed to have little effect.

He stepped back in instinctive fear as the familiar, droning sound of an armorsuit Hypermode filled his ears. Brady and Shendra became aglow with phazon, and their combined effort laid waste to even the most well-armored of their enemies.

Vivid blue shots erupted from their rifles, accelerating at impossible speed. The charged phazon drilled straight through the pirates' armor, and before long the corridor had emptied of its defenders.

Spent phazon vaporized from the shells of their armor as they returned to normal.

They moved forward into the skyway. The hallway opened up into a vast transit center. The troopers flooded the room as more pirates came forward to greet them. A dozen Hypermodes reactivated on both sides, and the skyway filled with the warcries of two species.

The Demolition troopers followed close behind them. The marines were their first line of defense; mere fodder to ensure their safe passage. Kayleer could see a familiar figure among them. Though she had changed in appearance greatly since their first meeting, the unique form of her armor persevered through every upgrade.

Even the Hunter was outfitted with a PED now, and she filled every pirate near her with a savage barrage of phazon.

A Berserker's cry echoed through the chamber, and Kayleer turned his head in a panic. A strange, verdant beam flew from the Hunter's arm cannon straight into its head, and the Knight was felled with a single shot.

Another vicious roar filled Kayleer's ears. Distracted, he turned to the source mere moments before a Commando flung himself upon him.

Kayleer matched the Commando in size, and so was not so easily pinned down. He raised his rifle and fired straight at the pirate's armored head. The blue phazite absorbed the rounds, beginning to glow with heat. But the damage came too slowly, and Kayleer soon heard the familiar shriek of an energy blade loosing from its sheath.

A powerful blast of blue light veered straight into the Commando's side. His blade-strike was skewed, ramming into the mere ground. The barb of the blade stuck fast in the steel as he struggled to remove it. At last he was freed, and looked up into the barrel of a charged assault rifle. Shendra released a charge of phazon, and watched with grim satisfaction as the Commando's headpiece shattered, along with its contents.

Kayleer quickly got up, rejoining the fray. Before long, they had made an opening, and dredged forward into the next section of skyway. The battle continued as the troopers' escort fought their way deeper and deeper into the heart of the Homeworld, inching ever closer to their destination.

Kayleer was becoming exhausted, but he refused to let up. Adrenaline pulsed through his blood with every round of plasma, even if his shots did little else but provide a distraction, allowing for the PED marines to decimate the enemy. He was almost shocked at the ease with which they moved forward. Clearly the pirates had been unprepared, the full bulk of their forces otherwise located.

"What the hell is that thing?!" a voice cried through the transceivers. Kayleer's eyes followed the panicked gaze of one of his squadmates as a new enemy graced his vision. Its armor blazed red, imposing and tall.

The vanguard opened fire, but even the combined effort of four PED troopers failed to slow him. His strange, crimson armor met their phazon with fierce resistance, and not even they could halt him as he rushed forward, blades alight.

He tore down every marine in his path. Their dismembered bodies soon littered the halls.

Seeing the chaos, the Hunter rushed to lend a hand. The red figure turned its armored head to meet her, and in a flash of light, immediately disappeared.

With his cowardly retreat went the last defender of the skyway, and the Demolition troopers were finally allowed to do their work. Four fuses were set up in front of the final gate. With a few coordinated signals among the troops, they ignited them in unison.

The skyway rocked with the force of the explosion as the gate's lock was obliterated. The Hunter calmly approached a terminal, and with a few clever moves of her hand and visor, the gates opened.

The battlefield was quiet, and the squadron began to regroup.

"Everyone still alive?"

Kayleer allowed himself a breath of relief as Shendra's voice filled his transceiver.

"I copy," Brady responded, joining the group.

"Like hell I'm dying on an escort mission," Adelaide said cockily.

Anderson and Toni sooned rejoined them, along with Kalson. Their eighth member was nowhere to be seen.

"Philips?" Brady called into the com. There was no answer.

The team hesitated, exchanging silent glances.

"We'll retrieve him once the mission's done," Brady said quietly, turning his back to follow the Hunter. "We need to make sure Aran makes it to the Seed."

The Hunter had gone up ahead. The Demo troopers had opened up a new section of skyway. Its ceiling was a mesh of glass and metal, a landing bay at its center. The cargo line was just ahead of it, one which the Hunter would use to fly to the Seed.

Looking around the room, she easily located the controls to the landing pad. She made her way up to the platform, eager to open the docking bay and call her ship. She pulled herself up the ledge and approached the terminal.

Suddenly a familiar enemy materialized before her. He fell from an opening in the ceiling and attacked. Catching her off-guard, he rammed his arm into her chest in a vicious fling. The Hunter fell from the platform and slammed against the floor below.

She quickly collected herself, and sent a menacing glare upwards to her assailant. The pirate Commander had returned.

"Aran!" Brady called, rushing forward to lend his help.

But the Hunter held up her hand, urging him to stay back. With a quick scan of her visor, she ordered the gates closed behind her, leaving her alone.

The pirate Commander called in his underlings to assist him, and grinned with the premonition of the Hunter's defeat.

Time and time again, he tried to take her by surprise, to teleport someplace new across the battlefield and attack. But the Hunter would not be duped a second time, and met each of the Commander's deceptive tactics with a merciless assault of phazon.

Each time he called for support, his Commandos were quickly laid to waste. The Commander roared with anger, growing impatient. At last he decided a frontal attack was his last option, and so, blades drawn, he rushed the hated enemy.

The Hunter filled his red phazite armor with charged shots of phazon. He absorbed them, tolerating the damage they brought in favor of continuing his attack. He drove his blade forward, aiming straight for the Hunter's heart.

But her reflexes were even greater than his, and the Commander roared in fury as his blade met nothing but air. A metal heel rammed his recoiling back as a blast of phazon barrelled into his chest straight after.

Dazed, he fell back. He had failed. He had thought himself victorious, and let his guard down. The Commander paid the price for his hubris. Even at close range, the Hunter was well-defended, and the pirate winced in pain as the hilt of her arm cannon met his mandibles in a savage blow.

The Commander's body careened backwards onto the skyway. He fell downwards and finally stopped moving, his body lying pitifully broken on the cold metal rails.

The gates reopened, and the troopers regrouped, joining the Hunter, rifles primed and ready. They were surprised to see that no enemies awaited them. Only their bodies, strewn across the skyway in a violent mess.

The Hunter opened the docking bay doors and summoned her gunship. The craft descended, unleashing a barrage of missiles on the final gate. The cargo line exposed at last, the Hunter reboarded her ship and disappeared into the heart of the Seed.

What was left of the troopers stayed behind to guard the entrance. There was little else but silence as the fragmented platoon was left to ponder their bitter victory.

* * *

"Philips… I didn't even see what happened to him," Anderson said.

"What happened was he ran up ahead. The only reason we're alive is because others died to get us this far," Adelaide replied bitterly.

"Not so easy for an escort mission, huh Stevens?"

Adelaide winced in anger at his squadmate's jab, but had nothing to argue back with.

A little less than an hour passed in solemn silence. Finally the platoon looked upward as the ground shook beneath them. The cargo line filled with blue smoke as a familiar gunship could be seen retreating overhead.

"_Attention troops, this is Admiral Dane. We have a confirmed destruction on the pirate Seed. I repeat, that's mission complete. Issue a full retreat. We need the fleet to regroup."_

"Knew she could do it," Anderson said, grinning.

"Can't believe we got through this," Toni allowed herself a breath of air.

Amidst the relief, there was skepticism. "Rejoining the fleet? What else are we attacking, now that we're done with the Homeworld?"

"Beats me," Anderson shrugged. "Come on, we should get back to the escort site."

A sharp, ringing sound filled the docking bay, and the squadron looked around in confusion.

"What was that?" Kayleer asked, becoming paranoid.

"Wait a minute," Anderson said, nearing the edge of the platform. He gazed downward to find the tram rails were empty. "Where the hell did the pirate Commander's body go?!"


	37. P2: Chapter 19 - Depths of Urtraghus

Rifles primed, everyone looked around themselves in a panic.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"What do you mean the body is gone?!"

An ear-splitting scream filled the room. The squadron turned to the source, eyes wide with horror as Anderson's struggling body was lifted into the air, skewered on a titanic red blade.

He was every bit as shocked as they were, and could hardly grasp what had happened before his throat welled with blood. His desperate chokes filled their communications as the pirate Commander viciously flung the body from his scythe, cutting straight through his armor and leaving him in pieces.

The team immediately focused their fire, Brady and Shendra entered Hypermode and unleashed every bit of their arsenal. But the Commander barely remained for a second before disappearing entirely from sight.

"Fall back, NOW!" Brady ordered, quickly realizing even they didn't have the firepower for this.

The team eagerly obeyed, turning to run. But it wasn't long before the slinking, steely sound of a teleporter filled their ears.

Just as soon as he appeared, he was gone, the nearly-imperceptible flash of a blade his only trail. Brady's body collapsed to the ground. His head was nowhere to be seen.

The fearful sound of heavy panting filled Kayleer's helmet as he ran as fast as he possibly could. They were being stalked by something they could not even see. The pirate Commander was picking them off at his leisure, and it seemed only a matter of time before that blade greeted him, too.

The team rushed into the corridor adjacent to the skyway. The tunnels wove through the inner workings of the cargo line, winding and winding until the team at last came to a dead end. A rail pipe bordered a steep drop-off, giving way to the abyssal depths of Urtraghus. There was nowhere farther to go.

The hissing sound of the Commander's teleporter began to ring in their ears once more, and Shendra gave a frantic order to what was left of her team.

"JUMP!" she cried.

Four heads turned to her in disbelief, but the sound of an energy blade being drawn from the void quickly dissipated their hesitation.

All together, the marines leapt from the cliffside, tumbling into the darkness below.

* * *

Kayleer groaned. Everything was bruised and sore. His prosthetic ached with the telltale signs of damage, fingers struggling to move. He tried to stand, collapsing immediately after as a pain seared up his leg and back. He tried again, trying desperately to remain standing despite it.

It was dark, impossibly so. But the light of several shoulder-mounted flashlights illuminated the scenery. Surprisingly, the environment was almost entirely stone, broken only by the occasional jut of wires and steel. A thin stream of acidic water flowed through the center of the gorge, searing the rock as it moved.

"Kalson, Kalson?" Shendra's voice echoed against the walls.

"He's gone," Toni said grimly. "He landed on his neck."

"Can you stand?" Shendra asked. Toni shook her head.

"I think my legs are broken," she said meekly.

"Stevens?"

"Arm is pretty busted up, but I'm fine," he answered, stuttering through his words. He stood up with relative ease, but his left arm hung uselessly at his side. It tottered slightly as he stood, and he grimaced and gasped as he clutched at it with his rifle-arm.

"Can anyone on the surface hear me?" Shendra spoke into her transceiver, hoping someone would pick up. Only static answered her, and the feedback quickly told her that the transmission had failed.

"I can't get a signal to work here. We need to get moving til we find a place where it will," she ordered.

"What about Toni?" Adelaide asked.

Shendra thought for a moment, turning her eyes to Kayleer. "Do you think you can carry her, Kayleer?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted. He was more than twice the size of his squadmate, but armor was dense and heavy, and the pirate was uncertain of his strength. He remembered all too well what an impossible burden Shendra had been, but he couldn't use much more than a single arm back then.

He knelt down and offered Toni his shoulder. She slung her arm over and clasped it about his neck. He pulled her up, straining with the effort as the heavy marine weighed down on his arms. Toni rubbed her head and winced in pain, finding even the pirate's gentle movements to be a strain on her injuries.

"I think we can manage," he reported.

Shendra nodded, and led the way forward.

She fiddled with her helmet's transceiver, trying desperately to find something that would work. Her helmet suddenly buzzed with static, and she lit up in surprise.

"It's a transmission! Federation in origin but it's on a different frequency than usual," Shendra eagerly reported.

"Hello? Hello? Can you read me?" she inquired.

Kayleer looked down in surprise as he heard a muffled echo of Shendra's voice beneath Toni's helmet. He felt in the marine an immediate sense of panic. He was confused. Shendra hadn't sent the message to her teammates, but to the unknown source of the transmission.

"No response," Shendra said, disappointed. She adjusted her radio waves, trying to change the transmission she was receiving into more than mere static. As the blaring sound faded, she saw an image slowly begin to coalesce on her HUD. She squinted in confusion as she tried to make it out.

"They're… coordinates," she said. "But I don't understand, they line up with the ones my HUD displays. They're _our _coordinates."

"What the hell do you mean?" Adelaide said. "Someone's transmitting our coordinates?!"

He turned to the pirate and raised his rifle. "I knew it, I FUCKING KNEW IT!" he screamed. "He's giving away our position to them! Fucking pirate scum, should've snapped his neck when he was on the ground."

"Adelaide calm down," Shendra tried to reason with him.

"Calm down? CALM DOWN?" his voice cracked. "Have you fucking lost it? Half the squad is _dead_. And we're not far behind them. Why do you think the transmission's on a frequency we wouldn't normally detect? He's trying to lead them to us!" He backed away, never taking his aim off the pirate. "No wonder you were so eager to help Toni. Bet you thought if you were carrying a human that we'd be more hesitant to shoot? Yeah, you're clever, I'll give you that. You're finished, you've been exposed. Now put her down."

"Adelaide, please -"

"I SAID PUT HER DOWN!"

A familiar ringing filled the air. It was coming from directly behind the pirate's back, and he instinctively leaped forward. An energy blade slashed against his foot, and Kayleer cried out in pain as he stumbled forward and fell to the ground, dropping his squadmate in the process. He turned to see the red scythe coming down upon him for a second attempt, and he quickly rolled to avoid it.

Adelaide immediately began to open fire on the familiar, red-armored form of the pirate Commander. He merely laughed as the plasma shots clinked harmlessly against the rich, crimson phazite.

"Yyou are uselesss, marine," the Commander laughed, English words hissing awkwardly forth in a raspy, guttural voice.

A new sound rocked against the cavern walls as Shendra entered Hypermode. It seemed to demand the Commander's attention, and before she could fire, he clasped his hand around the head of the marine lying on the ground, pulling her body up in front of him.

"Go ahhhead and ssshoot," he grinned.

"What the hell is this?!" Toni cried, her tone indignant. "You promised you'd spare me!"

"Did I?" the pirate rasped.

"I'm the correspondent, I'm the one that got you here now put me down!"

"Ahhh, I was wonndering which of the four of yyou that came from," the Commander hissed, dropping the marine to the ground.

The remaining three looked to one another in disbelief, uncertain what to do. As soon as the pirate dropped the revealed spy, Shendra opened fire. No sooner had she done so did the Commander disappear yet again, his hollow laughter bouncing maniacally against the canyon walls.

"Back to back, NOW!" Shendra ordered.

The three soldiers threw their backs against one another, preparing for the impending attack. Shendra's Hypermode quickly wore off as the suit's safety function forced her back to standard fire. There was silence as the marines simply waited, rifles primed and ready.

Despite their vigilant formation, the Commander was undaunted, phasing forth directly in front of Shendra. The flash of the teleporter rang through the air as he stepped forward and grabbed the tiny human by the neck.

"Shendra!" her comrades cried in unison. holding back their fire for fear of hitting her.

"That PED you're using is ssstolen," the Commander hissed. "Allow me to sshow you how the original functions."

He drove his blade straight into the phazon holster on Shendra's back. With careful precision, he forced it through her armor, into her body and held it there. The pirate smirked with satisfaction as the human's screams filled the chasm walls.

Shendra writhed in agony, kicking her legs desperately against the air as the pirate held her helpless. The phazon from her suit rushed inside the open wound beneath her armor. It burned inside her, searing through her blood.

Kayleer's rifle lowered, his eyes went wide with horror and he felt a familiar weakness in his legs. He wanted desperately to help, but found himself unable to move. Phazon oozed down her armor. Vivid blue drops of contagion mixed with blood slipped down her legs and coated the ground, crackling with life and radiation.

Finally her screams stopped. Her body became limp. The pirate Commander laughed, reveling in the ecstatic pulse in his head as another mind joined the ranks. He dropped the marine, who landed upright on the ground, shakily raising her rifle now at her own squadmates.

"Shendra?" Adelaide called to her, confused.

She did not answer. Her body spasmed and began to erupt with phazon as she entered Hypermode, rifle bursting with energy as she prepared to fire.

The Commander only laughed, quickly phasing out and appearing directly adjacent to his newfound comrade. He had the marines trapped between them, and there was no where left to run.


	38. P2: Chapter 20 - War's End

Shendra's rifle glowed a malevolent blue as she charged a final shot.

Adelaide could hardly believe what was happening. Acting on impulse, he tackled his commanding officer to the ground, grasping her rifle in his hand and forcing it askew. A powerful shot rocketed into the wall, leaving a smoldering crater which crackled blue with phazon.

"What the hell's wrong with you?!" the marine cried, straining to keep his opponent's limbs against the ground. He winced as he strained his injured arm. Shendra's arm canon fought fervently to free itself, arching inwards, desperate to release a shot into Adelaide's chest.

The Commander looked on with mild disinterest. His own opponent was trembling visibly, inching backwards with shaky steps, his visor darting to his comrades and then back to him.

The pirate grinned, bringing forth his ever-ready blade. He rammed it upwards, into the rim of the marine's helmet. The scythe bore straight through the visor. He felt it make contact with something soft as he slowed his drive just the smallest of bits, letting the tip of the blade rest against the still-intact top of the helmet.

The Commander held the marine aloft by his head. He heard a satisfying cry of pain, and hurled the creature off in a vicious sling. His blade took the helmet with it, and the marine's body careened into the far wall.

Kayleer struggled to right himself to his knees. He clutched at his face, wincing as his armored fingers unintentionally found their way inside a deep wound. His face had been lacerated right down the middle. His antennae stuck stubbornly against his head, adhering to the blood and flooding his head with its unpleasant stench.

His nares bubbled with gore, and Kayleer wheezed as he felt a bit of it slip down his throat. He looked up, still clasping futilely at his wound. The pirate Commander was watching him with sadistic interest.

"What a sstrange little mutant you arrre," the Commander smirked. "One of Sscience Team's many failures, I assume?" he asked, stepping towards him.

Kayleer sneered at the mention. He refused to answer, knowing full well the Commander was simply drawing out the kill for his own pleasure.

"Not goinng to entertainn me with an answer?" the Commander frowned. "Fine."

The pirate's thundering footsteps made their way over to the injured marine. He dug his claws into the creature's wound, grinning at the resulting cry of agony as he did so. Using the gash in his face as a handle, the Commander plucked him from the ground.

"I think I'm done toyying with yyou," the Commander growled.

Kayleer roared in pain. The Commander's morbid grip coupled with the force of gravity was tearing his head in two. He felt the searing touch of an energy blade against his neck as he struggled fruitlessly to free himself.

It was over. His light was to be extinguished. Since the day he left Aether, he knew full well the risk that he would die in battle. He thought he had accepted that long ago. And yet, even now, faced with the end, he found himself in denial.

Even as the warm edge of the blade cut through the flesh of his neck, he still couldn't believe it was true.

His throat flooded with blood. He struggled to breath through the liquid, his vision starting to haze. His mind began to fill his blinded world with the illusion of water. It went on for miles above him, burying him beneath it.

A sudden jolt snapped him from his hallucinations. The deathly grip released him, and he could hear the staggered steps of something heavy moving away from him.

Kayleer could feel the ground shaking. The tremor wracked the canyon walls and increased in intensity as an ear-splitting shriek filled the air around him. It was as if the very planet were crying out in agony. The quake threw him against the wall, calming as the ground at last seemed to settle in a new position.

Adelaide and Shendra were tossed against opposite walls, their stalemate finally broken. Adelaide groaned as he struggled to his feet, old wounds reopened from the violent tossing.

He raised his rifle weakly, his arms exhausted. He prepared for a renewed attack, but was surprised to find that none came. Both Shendra and the Commander clutched at their heads, shaking violently and crying out.

"What is happening?!" the Commander cried in own tongue. "My brethren, where have you gone?!" his screams devolved into mindless roars as he slowly lost control of his movements, writhing on the canyon floor.

Something lightyears away had at long last met its end. A leader, a mind, indeed an entire planet had left its place in the galaxy vacant. Phazon no longer had any will to control it, and each and every one of its infected minions was left to devolve into madness.

Urtraghus felt it stronger than perhaps any other. Its inhabitants began to turn on one another. With nothing to hold back the ravenous contagion, it quickly consumed the minds of its hosts.

The Commander's screams slowly died down. Phazon dribbled from his mandibles as he stared around himself with deadened eyes. He reached out for the nearest living thing. As luck would have it, the injured marine from before had landed close by.

He hissed, letting fly a copious amount of loose phazon from his jaw as he raised his blade-arm into the air.

"What are you doing?!" Toni cried as the pirate towered above her.

The Commander roared mindlessly in response, driving his blade straight through her chest. His scythe steamed with evaporate blood as he withdrew it from the human's heart. He turned his greedy eyes to the two marines against the wall.

He twitched erratically, drawing closer as he hissed in brainless bloodlust. Entirely focused on his impending kill, the Commander failed to notice the silver suit of armor that came careening towards him from his side.

She rammed against his waist and set him off balance. The Commander fell to the ground and roared in rage, slashing his blade spastically before him. But the marine quickly drove her rifle up between his mandibles. A vicious barrage of Hypermode shots filled the Commander's head.

His roars ceased at last. His body became limp, his blade-arm fell uselessly to the ground.

A thin haze of spent phazon wafted upwards from the marine's armorsuit. She fell backwards, armor clattering loudly to the canyon floor.

"Shendra?" Kayleer spoke weakly, struggling to stand. He grasped at his throat, wincing with pain as he touched the wound. To his astonishment, the bleeding had stopped. The cut on his face, it seemed, had also stopped. He pulled his hand away bloodied, tiny bits of silver glinting in the black clots. Momentarily confused, he quickly threw his own concerns to the dust. He looked up towards the collapsed body of the Lieutenant Commander, eyes wide with fear as he remembered what had happened.

"Shendra? Shendra what happened, are you alright?" Adelaide cried, running to her side. Fearful that she was not breathing, he tore her helmet off and raised his own visor.

"What..." he stared down in disbelief.

Finding the strength to walk, Kayleer joined his teammate at her side. Surprisingly, he offered no objection, his attention remaining solely on the injured body before him. Kayleer turned his own gaze to meet hers, and felt his blood turn cold.

Black cracks etched their way across Shendra's face. The whites of her eyes had blackened, the vivid greens of her iris turned a hollow blue.

"You're going to be fine, just stay with us," Adelaide stammered.

Kayleer shook his head in denial. His breath stuttered desperately against his open mouth and he found it hard to swallow.

"Adelaide, she's…"

"BE QUIET!" he yelled. "Shendra… " he began, voice lowered to a hush. "We're going to get you out of here. Just hang on, alright? You'll be-"

His words were cut off as her body suddenly spasmed. Her darkened eyes clamped shut as she grimaced, throwing her head against the floor. She tried to speak, but found the task impossible. She swallowed, fighting back the flood that slowly worked its way up her throat.

"You saw what happened to the Commander," Kayleer cracked.

"Yeah, I did," Adelaide smiled weakly. "You kicked his ass, that's what," he told her, praying silently that she would return the hopeful gesture. He turned to Kayleer. "Pick her up, come on let's go," he begged.

Kayleer's wanted to listen, to believe he was right but knew it already that there was nothing they could do.

"What are you waiting for?!" Adelaide cried defiantly, glaring at the pirate.

A blood-curdling scream filled the chasm. It slowly shifted tone, turning hollow and voiceless. The cracks on Shendra's face extended, bursting with blue mutagen as they ruptured her skin. Phazon riddled with blood dripped down her lips.

Her harsh blue eyes met Kayleer's gaze, and the pirate could feel the very moment her light left them. He felt her fear and pain dissipate, leaving nothing behind but an empty shell.

"No…" his voice twisted with despair.

Shendra's body rolled over to its side. A hideous wretch wracked through her as she spilled a huge amount of phazon from her mouth. She rose shakily to her feet, letting loose an inhuman hiss as she stared back towards her former squadmates.

"What the hell is happening to her?!"

"The infection…" Kayleer gave him a piteous expression. "Brain damage. She's gone, Adelaide," he said, his voice hoarse.

"What?" he shook his head in disbelief.

The blood-hungry creature roared in a voiceless cry. It launched itself at Adelaide. Not having the intelligence to raise its own weapons anymore, it merely clawed at him with its limbs, human teeth clamping down on air, trying desperately to meet flesh.

"Get off me," Adelaide cried, pushing against its face as it tried time and time again to bite him. It roared, phazon-tainted dribble flying against the pinned marine's face. Its hand began to clamp itself around his neck.

"GET OFF ME!" he screamed, desperate to free himself, unable to hold himself back as he drove his rifle forward.

The sound of a spent plasma shot echoed across the featureless cavern walls. Something hard and metal clunked against the chasm floor, and gave way to silence.


	39. P2: Chapter 21 - Revival

_Author's note: __A little update on Soul's future upload schedule._

_With this chapter, Part 2 comes to a close. I have a good idea where the next part will take us, but writing takes time, and I like to build up a good buffer of chapters so that I can continue to deliver weekly updates. That said, this story will be taking a brief hiatus while I make progress on Part 3. It hopefully won't be anything too long, but please know that updates will cease for a while._

_Thank you all for your comments, your reviews, your readership, and your interest. I hope you'll all join me for the third and final part._

* * *

The smell of burning metal filled the Urtragian abyss. The crackling sound of a plasma-sparked fire echoed against the chasm walls, consuming the oxygen-rich air of the alien world. Phazon fueled the hungry flames as they singed away the final casualty.

Silence drifted between the last two marines as they walked solemnly forward. The light of the fire soon left their armor as they continued to put as much distance between themselves and the battlefield.

The smaller of the pair suddenly stopped. He slumped against the fissure wall, refusing to go on any further. He had given up.

"Adelaide," Kayleer began, searching for words. "I know how you must feel, but we need to keep moving if we are to-"

"How the hell would a pirate like you know how this feels," Adelaide scowled.

Kayleer flinched at the human's words. "I know you were her brother. I cannot imagine what it is like to lose someone so close," he admitted. "But do not think that you were the only one who valued her life."

"Brother?" Adelaide's brows perked in surprise. "She told you I was her brother?"

Kayleer looked up, confused. He nodded.

"I didn't think she still thought that way of me," he said quietly.

"She told me what happened on the station colony," Kayleer explained. "She was resentful, but she never denied you as her family."

Adelaide shook his head, stifling a sob. "I… I found her when she was just a baby. My parents were dead, hers were too. I didn't even know her first name, she took a Phrygisian name," the human tried to restrain himself, to hold back from showing weakness to the pirate. He turned his head away as tears began to well up in the corners of the his eyes. "Back then, she called me brother, but after that day, when it all went to shit… she just shut me out. She never told anyone our relation. She was fucking ashamed of me."

Sorrow had begun to seed itself in the proud marine. Kayleer had felt his denial, earlier on. Now it seemed the full weight of what transpired had finally hit him.

"I always felt it about her when she spoke of you," Kayleer tried to comfort him. "There was anger… but there was kinship too. It was always there."

The marine couldn't take it anymore. He collapsed against the cliffside and broke down, visor lifting as he tried in vain to clear the tears from his matted face. His voice cracked and struggled as he finally allowed himself to mourn.

"I never told her I was sorry. Never admitted my mistake. All those years on the same team and we never reconciled. All those years fucking WASTED!" he smashed his fist against the wall.

"Adelaide..."

"I'm sorry," Adelaide muttered in a broken voice.

"What?"

"You, Kayleer, I'm sorry for what I put you through. All the way back on Aether too, I'm sorry. That I tried to kill you… that I didn't trust you or your Luminoth. That I gave you so much grief these few years we've worked together."

Even through the dense cloud of depression, Kayleer could sense it was heartfelt. He bowed his head and nearly broke down alongside him. "I forgive you," he said.

Adelaide fell silent, the weight of his guilt and grief seeming to lessen just that smallest of bits. He rested his head against the wall and stared listlessly upward.

"'First the birthgivers, then their offspring', that's the first thing I ever heard from an alien. It was the only thing he said, right after he murdered my parents. Pirates don't speak English. He learned it, just so he could communicate with his victims. Just so he could taunt a child before he killed him.

"He's all I could ever see. In you, Phrygisians, Luminoth, it didn't matter. I've been carrying that for so long, and it didn't matter what she said. Maybe if I had listened to her, we could've..." he cut himself off, his voice unable to continue. His head bowed, meeting his hand as he twitched with stifled cries.

Kayleer was silent. He had nothing left to say. He found himself sharing in Adelaide's grief. His mandibles quivered, he kept his head down, struggling to keep his own composure.

"Thank you," Adelaide said.

Kayleer looked up, making eye contact.

"She really cared about you, I could tell. She would've wanted this."

Despite everything, Kayleer found the will to smile. It was gone just as quickly as it appeared. He said nothing, and offered his hand to help the human up.

"We're getting out of here alive," Kayleer said resolutely.

Adelaide nodded, clearing his face. He grasped the pirate's hand and found the will to stand.

* * *

The pair trudged forward for what seemed like hours. Every now and again, they would try a transmission, no closer to getting a message through than they had been when their team was twice the size.

Nothing but the sound of their own footsteps could be heard for miles. Not even vermin crossed their path. But the steady silence was suddenly broken by the sound of metal clanking roughly against stone. Adelaide turned to look behind him, rifle instinctively raised. He lowered it as he realized what had happened.

"Shit! Kayleer?" he asked, running and kneeling down to meet him. The pirate had collapsed to the ground. He wasn't moving, and panic began to flare in the human's mind.

"What the hell happened?" he cried, twitching his head nervously around him, rifle primed as he feared they had been followed.

But there was no one around. The chasm was empty, his only companion bereft of any new wound or damage.

Straining with effort, Adelaide pushed him onto his back, waving his hand futilely over his closed, unresponsive eyes.

"Don't you die on me too," he said.

"I'm fine," a voice suddenly said. Two eyes burst open, pupils shrinking and dilating in the unfamiliar light.

Adelaide allowed himself a breath of relief, shaking his head as he offered a hand to help the pirate up.

_Who are you talking to?_ Kayleer thought to himself. He tried to say it, but found his voice would not respond.

He was on the ground. When did he get there, again? Kayleer tried to stand but once more found his body in utter defiance. Instead he lifted his limbs into the air, his head turned to look them over in a curious glare.

"You feeling alright?" Adelaide inquired.

"I'm fine," the voice repeated. Listening intently, Kayleer found the voice echoed in Aetherian, a much louder, synthesized English resounding above it. Both came from his own throat.

_What?_

As Kayleer finally came to his senses, he realized with horror that he was not in control of his body. Something else had taken over, and he was fully conscious for every moment of it.

Panic fired in the pirate's terrified head as his own body moved against him. It rose up and stood. His human comrade nodded, satisfied that he was perfectly fine, just as he had said.

Adelaide began walking forward, and Kayleer felt his rifle arm begin to rise, taking aim as his mandibles twisted into a grin.

"ADELAIDE WATCH OUT!" he screamed with all his will.

The human turned to look behind him, eyes widened in fear as he quickly threw himself to the ground to dodge the shot of plasma that flew from Kayleer's rifle. He pushed himself to his feet and raised his own weapon in response.

"What the hell has gotten into you?!" he demanded.

Fighting back with every ounce of willpower, the pirate tried to speak.

"2-215," he stammered. "I don't n-know how but he's fighting me," he cried, throwing his hands against his ears and shaking his head violently. He fell to his knees, his already-damaged forehead slamming against the ground.

"What do you mean 215? You mean the pirate before you? Stay with me," Adelaide pleaded, crouching down to offer his assistance.

"Get out of here, GET OUT!" Kayleer screamed. "He'll kill you!"

Confused, Adelaide didn't know how to react, and hesitated far too long. A hand thrust out from beneath the pirate's squirming body and clamped itself around his exposed face. Kayleer's visage distorted in an alien grin as he squeezed, eyes bulging with satisfaction as human blood trailed around his three fingers.

The grin suddenly disappeared, and he dropped Adelaide to the ground. He shook his head violently as he screamed out his warning.

"GET OUT! GET AWAY! Verr rousss geyraaaaa!" he roared, voice phasing in and out of Urtragian.

Not stopping to question any further, Adelaide turned and ran.

His eyes cringed in discomfort as the bright glare of headlights suddenly illuminated the chasm, and the marine gazed upwards in hope. To his dismay, it was a pirate ship that graced his vision, not one of his own.

Kayleer's body writhed and spasmed on the canyon floor, voice shifting from roars to Aetherian screams. The voices began to die down as he at last stopped struggling. With a final shudder, he stood, smirking with delight as a pirate ATC landed in the center of the chasm. He watched as the port open, and one of his brethren stepped forth from the docked ship.

He squinted, the muscles in his face twitching erratically as he found himself unable to detect the stranger's heat signature.

The visitor's own heat pits flared in recognition as he cocked his head in questioning."Unit 215?" he asked.

The pirate perked up as he recognized the familiar voice.

"Unit 387," he replied in perfect Urtragian. "Good to see you again."

The other Unit gave his comrade a toothy grin.

"The same to you," he replied. "We have unfinished work to do."


	40. Logs of Unit 215 - Log 1: Virus

_Authors Note:_

_Before I begin Part 3, I've decided to open with a little backstory. The next few chapters will be written in a 'log' format, from the point of view of Unit 215. As a result of this change in perspective, I expect the tone to be much darker than usual, and so discretion is advised._

_ Following this update, weekly uploads will return, with Part 3 following shortly after the conclusion of these logs._

_Welcome back! Any and all feedback on the story and its progression is greatly appreciated. Thanks for sticking with us for this long._

In the early days of war, High Command instigated an effort to produce biological weapons. Far different from the large, powerful creatures they typically commissioned Science Team to create, these were to be miniscule, microscopic. Something, they hoped, that would be able to purge entire planets of humans without ever being seen. They dreamed of being able to eradicate entire colonies, without the need to ever waste troops or fuel gel.

Their proposal was simple; recreate the structure of the most potent human diseases, then modify them to optimize lethality and transmission.

It was not long before we gained access to a rogue civilian ship. We cleared out its single pilot and used its terminals to access the humans' Network. A vast wealth of alien knowledge lied before us, but we did not concern ourselves with useless curiosity. We sought only the essential; that which we could use as weapons.

Earth was a fascinating planet, putrid as it was as the homeworld to my enemy and all the beasts which shared his ancestry. Infectious creatures ran rampant upon its surface; a deadly world of microscopic killers. It seemed almost strange, that such a planet with a seemingly endless amount of toxic vermin could have ever given rise to a sentient species.

I researched many lifeforms. I can still recall their names, Lassa, Lujo, Variola, something the humans called the _plague_. One lifeform in particular caught my interest. An archaic disease, long forgotten since its purge, known in the human world as rabies.

It could lay dormant in a body for months before ever showing its true face. Once symptoms started, the beasts which carried it would go into a psychotic rage, spreading the illness with the very spit the disease refused to let them swallow. By the time the virus had made itself known, death was inevitable. The brain broke down, and the body went with it.

Despite its cruel efficiency and lethal nature, it was easy to see how it had been easy to purge. The only time it could be spread was when the very blatant symptoms had begun. This appeared to be a trend among many diseases. Some of the most successful, I found, were ones that spread while displaying no symptoms at all. But most of these took years to kill, if they did so at all.

My first attempt, then, became to modify rabies. To create the perfect pathogen, one which could spread like wildfire long before anyone knew it was there. A silent, lurking killer that could blaze through the human population and purge it in one fell swoop.

The task was difficult without any actual humans to test on. I made do with earthly vermin; tiny, furry stowaways common on human ships and easy to breed.

Weeks passed as I progressed. I recreated the creature solely from human data. I broke down every protein, every amino acid which composed the tiny killer. By the time I neared the end of my task, I was certain I had created the perfect weapon.

It could spread through the air, mere hours after contraction. It made a home in the nostrils, the mouth and throat. The symptoms were negligible, eerily similar to one of the most popular and harmless of human diseases, the cold. And yet, even to that most pathetic of infections, mine was far more subtle in its initial state, and a thousand-fold more infectious.

It spread throughout the test group within a few hours, from a single infected rat. And within a single month, the symptoms at last showed themselves. They were all dead within days of one another.

I found myself smiling with the satisfaction of my success. I wondered how effective it would prove to be in the field. I wondered how my brethren fared with their own projects, if any was capable of superseding mine. Perhaps if High Command saw potential in my project, I would be granted human trials. Subjects of our enemy's species were often hard to come by, and were reserved for only the most promising research. I grinned with the possibility that I could be chosen.

My hubris was quickly adjusted when a monitor alerted me to a complication with the air filter. The rats' enclosure had ceased to circulate air.

It was of little concern to me. The subjects in this batch had all been terminated, and it compromised nothing to have their corpses sitting in stagnant air. Nevertheless, I would need to clear them soon, to make room for the next round. And I could not clear the rooms of contagion without a fresh supply of air.

I called in a mechanic. Unit 797 was his name, and I swiftly gave him his orders. He opened up the ventilation system, and took a look inside. He illuminated the vent and stuck his tools in to toggle with it. After a few adjustments, he asked that I turn the air vent on.

It seemed like a mundane request. The air was clean, after all. With obedience, I obliged him.

As air struggled to pump through the now-open vent, I heard something scratching across the metal. The mechanic nodded as air began to flow freely once more, straight into his face. Whatever had been blocking it was free, and I watched as he picked up something from within the vent and tossed it into a waste vat.

With that, he collected his tools and left me to my work. I set to clearing out the test chambers.

Curious as to what had been blocking my system, I took a quick break, and peered into the vat in which the mechanic had tossed the obstruction.

I felt a chill run through my spine as I gazed upon a small furry body. One of the rats from the test group had managed to chew and climb its way into the air vent. The air had blown right into its corpse, and right into the lab in which I stood.

I instinctively rushed towards the airlock and threw a spare respirator atop my head. I activated it, and heard the loud sound of a new air supply running through the helmet. My breath fogged the visor as my eyes darted around the lab.

Contaminated. Everything here was _contaminated_.


	41. Logs of Unit 215 - Log 2: Oversight

No, no I didn't need to panic. This was a human virus, after all. It wasn't even capable of infecting most of earth's species, so what chance did it have to infect a pirate?

Regardless, such a breach was entirely against protocol. Gasmask intact, I set to sterilizing the entire room. The chemicals stung my exoskeleton as I worked. The air in the lab was locked off from the rest of the ship, and sent through several cycles of superheating before being cycled back in. The rats, too, were disposed of, and the test chambers sterilized. I replaced the test group soonafter, ready to begin another round of research.

But I felt a certain anxiety panging at the back of my head. Before I resumed my assigned research, I resolved to do one simple test.

I prepared cell cultures of various types and, under contained conditions, exposed them to the agent I had dubbed MRV-1.

Rat cells would serve as the baseline. I knew already that they could be infected, and so they would serve as a control. Cells from an earth creature known as a crow served as an outgroup, as they would be immune. Finally the test group, pirate cells, would simply put my mild worries to rest.

After letting the mixtures sit for a few hours, I observed them. As expected, the rat cells had been largely wiped out, ruptured and filled to the brim with virus. The pathogen was shaped eerily similar to a primitive human bullet. The bird cells hadn't been harmed in the slightest; the agent could not even enter them.

Finally I looked at the culture of cells from my own species. I expected a similar sight as the crow cells, but what greeted me defied all logic.

The result was even more profound than in the rat cells, the virus even _more _efficient. The contagion had spread through the culture so fast that not even a single cell was left intact.

No, no, this had to be a mistake. I had to have mixed up the samples. But there was no mistaking a terrestrial cell for a pirate's, and I was certain my equipment was not feeding me false images.

I ran the test again in stubborn denial, hoping desperately that the first one was a fluke. But time and time again, the results were repeated. MRV-1 infected pirate cells with an even greater virulence than it did its intended host.

Our cells would actively modify themselves to allow the virus inside, utterly unprepared for the existence of infectious lifeforms. It was our nature, to adapt and absorb, to actively change and incorporate new material, new mutations. This was how we were designed.

But in all this time it seemed our species had never been presented with disease. It was something that simply failed to evolve on our world, or perhaps had long been purged since we left the realm of natural evolution. We had no history or knowledge with which to deal with it. We were vulnerable, incredibly so. All humans would need to do is introduce a single pathogen on Urtraghus, and we could be wiped entirely clean.

Or, they could introduce it on a frigate, and dispose of all the pirates aboard it. Just as I had inadvertently done a few hours ago.

* * *

The mechanic. The air from the compromised vent had gusted straight into his face. He had _touched_ the corpse of an infected creature. How long had it been since he had been exposed? The rats were infectious within two hours of contraction, and MRV acted even faster on pirates than it did on them. I hadn't the slightest clue how it would present itself in a pirate body.

Looking through the records I realized it had been three hours since 797 had come to the lab. How many other pirates had he come into contact with since then? Was quarantine even an option at this point?

What if I gave out the order to isolate him, along with all the others he had been near? I had no way to cure them. Dozens, maybe hundreds of pirates would be dead, and who would High Command blame for the casualties? I would be reserviced or put to death for my mistake.

Then what was I to do? Let the virus burn quietly through the entire frigate? It had had more than enough time to spread, if it could even do so at all. I had no way of knowing who was infected.

Panic began to take its insidious hold on my mind. I shivered violently with the sudden realization that 797 was not the only one to have been exposed here in the lab.

The air from the open vent had blown into the room, before I had taken the gasmask. Though it was sterile now, those few minutes before I had acquired protection were all the virus needed to enter my body.

My mandibles quivered in terror as I took a quick swab of my throat, along with a blood sample. The process was made rather difficult by the incessant shaking of my hands. Fear was such a counterproductive feeling, and I pondered briefly why High Command would allow such an emotion to remain with us, of all things. Perhaps without it, we would become too reckless.

At last, I ran both samples through a scan for my toxic creation, and awaited the results.


	42. Logs of Unit 215 - Log 3: Consequences

Negative.

Both scans had returned a negative result. I was not infected.

But as soon as I left the isolated sanctuary of the lab, I risked infection. I had already missed the midday ration to avoid this, and I could not remain this way forever.

And what of the others? How long would it be before the first of my brethren succumbed to the virus? Could it even kill them at all? I knew it was lethal to our cells, but that was merely at a microscopic level, after a direct injection. There was no evidence that it would actively spread and infect.

I tantalized myself with hopeful doubts, but my musing was quickly interrupted by an alert on the laboratory monitors.

The screen flashed in warning, notifying all crew of six casualties that had just occurred in the West sector, far on the opposite side of the ship.

No, that was impossible. There's no way it could have spread so far that quickly. But the report was there in plain sight, and I could deny the severity of the situation no longer.

I punched in an emergency command, trying to reach the bridge.

"Commander, this is an emergency. I believe the casualties are due to a toxin released into the frigate air supply. All crew need to acquire respirators immediately. If the taint is too severe we may need to evacuate,"

No response. I tried again. The console assured me that the signal had carried through to the bridge, yet I was answered with nothing but silence. It couldn't have already reached Command, could it? There had been no report from that area, or anywhere here in the East sector.

I could not simply stay and wait for the infection to fester. I needed to take action.

Respirator already in place, I finally opened the door to the lab. Air rushed out from the high-pressure environment and into the hall.

My steps immediately faltered as I felt the ground become uneven. I fell to my knee and found myself staring into the deadened gaze of one of my brethren. A body was lying inert just outside the door.

Someone had died right here, within eyeshot of the lab.

How? How was this possible? There had not been a single word, not a single report. There had not a single sound of struggle. I had heard nothing!

I winced with disgust and fear. What if it could spread through mere contact? I resisted the urge to cut off my own foot and went onwards, towards the bridge. Only from there could I send a message to the rest of the crew. I could warn them, try to salvage whoever was left.

The ship was littered with bodies in every crevice and corner. It began to dawn on me just how much damage I had done. Every floor, dotted with the silhouetted stillness of hundreds dead.

And all this while I had heard nothing. I had read only a single casualty report, and from the opposite side of the ship. Did they truly die so quickly here that no one had time to say a word?

There was no blood. Hardly any sign of struggle. My brethren had simply dropped where they stood.

One body was strewn over a console, his last command blinking on the screen. He had sent out a distress signal. Seeing everyone dying around him, he must have become desperate, and clung to the hope that another of our vessels was somewhere nearby to offer assistance.

Fool. Even if someone came to our aid, they risked being infected themselves. No, we needed to stop the virus before it could leave. The stars forbid it spread even further, or worse, fall into the hands of humans.

At last I reached the bridge. Resisting the urge to retch, I carefully removed a body from in front of the door. What I saw in the Command room did not come as a surprise.

Nothing but more bodies. That of the frigate Commander, and all of his underlings. They were still at their posts. I wondered briefly if they had even realized what was happening to them before they died.

I saw the message I had sent not minutes earlier still flashing on the screen in front of a communications officer. I quickly pushed his body out of the way and took control. I sent out a mass message to the ship.

"Can anyone hear me?" I asked, desperate for a simple reply. "This is the bridge. If you receive this message, you _will_ respond. That is an order."

I cared not that I had no authority to deliver that order. As far as I knew, there was no one alive who outranked me.

Silence.

It wasn't possible, was it? Was I truly the last one left alive? The casualty report from the West sector had come not thirty minutes ago. Someone must have been alive to send it.

"_I read you,"_ a voice finally answered.

"Where are you, Unit, what is your status, your number?" I demanded.

"_Unit 387. I-I'm in lab 015 of the West sector. What's going on?"_

"387 you must secure a respirator immediately. A toxin has been released into the frigate air supply. It is spreading rapidly."

A moment of silence passed before he answered.

"_I've done as you said,"_ he said. "_Please, Command, there has been no word, no plan. Everyone is dying! What do we do?"_ he begged me.

"Gather any other survivors and prepare for evacuation," I said, quickly punching in the order."You will head to the escape pods," I finished as the sirens began, lighting up the room in a vivid orange.

It was disappointing that only a single pirate had answered my summon. But so long as he survived long enough to reach the pods, I would escape. The wretched things could only be activated in the presence of at least two pirates, a troublesome countermeasure for selfish cowards.

I turned to leave. But a new alarm blared from one of the consoles and beckoned me back; it was an intruder report.

An intruder? Now of all times? No, they were irrelevant. All that mattered was getting off this frigate alive. But someone had sent the report, then surely there was at least one more survivor?

No, they too were irrelevant. I had done all I could. My message to acquire a respirator had been broadcast to the entire ship. And if they were indeed alive, then they would see the alarm and have the good sense to head to the escape pods, as I was.

I left the bridge, eager to put this wretched frigate behind me.

I passed through the central atrium and saw movement coming from the West sector. I turned, expecting to see the one who had identified as Unit 387.

But something bizarrely orange and alien greeted me instead. I froze in place as its slim, verdant visor turned to see me. I began to regret having paid the intruder report so little attention.


	43. Logs of Unit 215 - Log 4: Survival

Any doubts I had about the creature's hostility were quickly put to rest as it raised the massive cannon on its arm up to me.

My armor was strong, but the respirator I wore was hardly designed to tolerate weapons fire. A single shot there would spell my end.

Thinking of nothing else, I fled. I bolted across the room and into the next sector, towards the escape pods. I expected to hear the clang of footsteps following behind me, yet curiously none came.

For a moment I was relieved, until I observed the intruder more closely. Though obscured by ornate orange armor, I could sense something from the way it moved, the way its legs were jointed. It glanced back at me briefly before walking away. Just beneath its mask I could make out two lavish eyes upon a pale face, and it struck me. The intruder was human.

_Human._

Despite the unfamiliar nature of its armor, the thing was no doubt affiliated with the Federation. If it got its hands on the virus, on the data aboard this ship, it would be disastrous. The war would end within cycles, our species wiped off the face of the galaxy. I could not allow a weapon of this caliber to fall into human hands. I could not allow our weakness to be exposed.

The intruder was heading into the East sector. To the lab I had abandoned, to where all my research was a simple scan away.

The human knew. It knew something had slaughtered my brethren without leaving a trace, and it wanted to find out what. That was why it had ignored me. I had not offered resistance and so it saw me as a worthless distraction. I sneered as I realized that simply by exchanging glances, I had given away vital information; I was alive, and wearing a gasmask. They now knew it was something airborne.

The evacuation sirens continued to blare as I heard another set of frantic footsteps. Two pirates emerged from the West sector, respirators donned. Both were fellow members of Science Team. I recognized one as my commanding officer, 149. The other I could only assume was Unit 387.

"Stop," I commanded. "There's been a change of plans, come with me to the East sector."

I was met by immediate hostility from Unit 149.

"Who gave you the authority to give commands?" he snarled.

"Rank is irrelevant. A human has boarded, we need to neutralize it."

The two exchanged glances. 149 only shook his head.

"If you want to waste your time chasing it then go ahead," he spat. "I only need one other pirate to activate an escape pod." He motioned to 387 to follow.

I grabbed his arm and halted his advance. "If we leave now, we risk losing the war."

He bared his fangs and threw me off. "What are you talking about?"

"I have reason to believe what killed the others was a virus released from the labs. If the human finds that out, and finds the virus, what's to stop the Federation from making our weapon their own? If it can do this much damage on a single frigate, then imagine if the humans released it on the Homeworld."

It seemed to get through to him at last. "Then what do you propose," he demanded.

"I believe the pathogen came from lab 006. We need to get there before the human does, destroy every source of data. Or, terminate it before it can get there." 149 pushed past me, and led the way back into the East sector.

"The latter is easier said than done," 149 warned. "It managed to kill my entire squadron."

"You fled the battle?" 387 asked.

149 glared at him. "Do you accuse me of cowardice? Would you rather I had stayed and died? That would only mean one less pirate to handle it now."

"Enough," I warned. "Regardless of its strength, our respirators are fragile. They are not battle-grade."

"I did not ask for your input," 149 growled.

387 stopped walking, and turned his head to one of the abandoned labs.

"I see it," he said. "The human," he raised his rifle.

"No!" I hissed. "We cannot afford to engage it."

He immediately obeyed, and lowered his weapon. The human was no-doubt busy extracting data from the lab. I could only hope that whoever had worked there did not leave behind anything of value.

At last we reached my lab. I wasted no time unsheathing my blade and loosing it on every drive, datapad and console in the room.

My squadmates joined me in my rampage. 149 seemed to pause at an intact console, curious to its contents. He then turned an incriminating glare to me.

"You," he snarled. "This is _your_ lab. _YOU_ were the one who released the agent. You are responsible for every death on this frigate!"

I froze. I immediately regretted having brought others with me.

149 bared his fangs and made his way towards me. "I'll have you executed, you pathetic slime. No, reserviced! Do you have any idea what you've-"

Acting on impulse, with a single flick of my blade I sliced the left tube of his respirator in half.

His eyes widened with shock and fear as he realized what I had just done. The glass of his faceplate fogged as warm air from the frigate invaded it. I backed away, taking advantage of his lapse.

The sound of searing metal broke the silence. 149 and I both looked up to the entrance of the lab. The door was brightening as the metal began to warp and melt. The human had found us, and was breaking its way inside.

149 snapped out of his trance and let out a furious roar. He lunged at me, blade drawn, aiming for my throat. I met his blade with my own and drove him back. He had nothing left to lose, nothing left to be careful about. But one nick on my gasmask and he would have me.

He kicked at my torso, and finally forced me to the ground, blade pressing firmly down against mine. He withdrew it, and brought it down, again and again. My arm began to tire from blocking his blows.

All the while I was focusing on him, I almost didn't notice as the welding against the lab door ceased, as orange-armored fingers began to pry it open.

"387, make a hole in the hull!" I suddenly cried.

He looked at me, confused.

"I SAID DO IT!" I roared.

149 prepared for another strike. I could hear the sound of a plasma rifle blasting away at the frigate's hull.

I readied myself for the slash of a blade, or for the intruder to blast me with its alien weapon. But the very next thing I felt was the powerful pull of some unseen force.

A tiny breach in the ship's side soon transgressed to a gaping hole, as everything in the lab began to fly outwards into space. Consoles were ripped from their sockets. Glass enclosures shattered. Wires sparked out voiceless signals as they were ripped from their place.

387 was flung into the vacuum. I went with him, and next came 149. We were helpless to resist.

I took a deep breath of air as the respirator shut down automatically, locking itself against the vacuum.

Debris everywhere, I felt a certain nausea as I became weightless. I shivered as the freezing grip of space enclosed me.

I called out to 387, trying to tell him to head to the airlock on the southern end of the ship. He failed to hear me, no air to carry my voice. I pointed in the direction I intended, and he seemed to get the message.

149 had not forgotten his goal. As he was jettisoned from the ship, he used his last moment of contact with the hull to propel himself towards me.

He rocketed forward at an undaunted speed. He drew his blade, arching it to his side in preparation for a slash. There was no debris around me, nothing on which to apply force. I was floating, helpless,

149 finally reached me.

He crashed into me, his blade limp at his side. I was propelled forward, and he floated away. His limbs had slackened, his eyes were dead. The virus had saved me.

The momentum he had given me sent me flying toward the frigate. 387 had already gone ahead. I followed him, using the crevices in the ship's hull to fling myself forward.

I was beginning to freeze. My breath running out. The bulge of air in my throat threatened to escape as my body tried to force me to breathe nonexistent air.

At long last, we reached the airlock. 387 pressed his hand against the terminal and the doors opened for us.

My feet stuck firmly to the ground with the return of artificial gravity. Air cycled into the airlock and my respirator filtered it. I hyperventilated, desperate for oxygen.

But I heard no such sound from 387. I looked at him. His eyes were widened in fear, his hand clutching desperately at the tube of his respirator. It had been penetrated by an enormous shard of glass.

He looked at me, desperate for an order. I met his gaze with an equal fear. If he died before we reached the escape pods, I would never be able to leave. It took two pirates to man one; a countermeasure against selfish cowards, and I certainly could not allow an infected aboard with me.

I took in one last gulp of air and held it. Then, with reluctance, I removed my mask and gave it to him. He tore his own off before frantically donning mine, and stared at me in disbelief.

The airlock finished cycling, and we entered the frigate at last. The escape pods were right before us, each with their own, wonderfully untainted supply of air.

* * *

We sat in silence as the frigate faded into the backdrop of space. As the hours passed, with our hearts both still beating, it became evident that neither of us had been infected.

After the paranoia wore off, the inevitable questioning came.

"It was an accident, wasn't it?" 387 asked. "You releasing that thing on us?"

"Yes."

I wasn't sure if he believed me, or that I was some sort of traitor.

"What will we tell High Command?"

I paused, thinking of the best story to weave.

"There's no sense in adding to the death toll, is there? The human intruder unleashed one of the experimental agents onto the frigate. It did unspeakable damage, and we did our best to eradicate the data on it before they could retrieve it."

387 nodded. "I think that's best." I was surprised how easily he chose to go along with the lie.

"I do not know if you deserve execution or not. But telling High Command that a human has already succeeded in making use of our bioweapon, one that is a hundred fold more lethal to us than it is to them, and one they do not have the means to replicate… they are unlikely to order continued research on it."

So preoccupied was I with preserving my own hide, that I didn't see the larger benefit to it.

"If they only thought it was accidentally released, they would see the deaths as a credit to its potency, instead of a threat."

387 nodded. "I don't want to see this again. I don't want to be infected."

"Then we are in agreement," I smiled. It seemed I would not have to kill my new comrade after all.


	44. Logs of Unit 215 - Log 5: Addict

Only one pirate knew who was responsible for what happened on the frigate, and I was not yet certain I could trust him.

I supposed all High Command would have was his word against mine. I outranked him, and there were no other witnesses. I could easily deny the accusations and place the blame on him.

But as I gave my report to High Command through the limited communications of the pod, Unit 387 remained quiet. He offered no objections as I spun the tale, of some unknown and deceased Unit crafting a virus which the armor-clad human intentionally released aboard the frigate. As I gave the opinion that considering viral warfare was nothing but self-destructive.

They were at first skeptical, and hesitant to abandon a field with so much promise. But they were quickly swayed when I revealed to them our fatal weakness, one that made us incredibly vulnerable to any microbe we sought to research.

"Is there any way to counteract this flaw?"

"Not unless we change the fundamental genetic structure of every living pirate."

I was met with a scowl. "Is there anything on that frigate worth salvaging?"

I shook my head. "Nothing that would not be a thousand times more lethal to us than our target," I paused, remembering something vital. "I also do not recall the human intruder ever leaving. They may still be there, searching for data."

This seemed to perturb High Command, even more so when I described their appearance. This particular human was evidently a repeat offender.

"The human will be dealt with," I was assured.

"As for you and Unit 387, an opening has come up on frigate Orpheon," High Command continued. "The Science Team party stationed there could use assistance with their budding research on phazon."

"Phazon?"

"A high-energy volatile. It shows promise as a replacement for fuel gel. Redirect your pod's route, Orpheon is stationed in orbit above Tallon IV. I'll expect to hear your arrival report within the next few days."

With that High Command cut the transmission, and we were left with our orders.

* * *

It was a taxing few days, for escape pods could only travel so fast. There was nothing to occupy the time, save for talking, which in its very concept was quite unappealing.

Orpheon was miniscule in comparison to my previous location. I supposed its purpose was secondary, as the mainstay of research was done on Tallon's surface. The studies in orbit, I assumed, must be second-rate to those on the planet. It didn't take much extrapolation to figure that Orpheon's scientists must be second-rate as well.

With a bit of delving I formed a reasonable theory as to why a job opening had appeared so quickly on Orpheon. Phazon was not simply a volatile, but a hallucinogen, and an addictive substance. I was ashamed of my species to find that a sort of culture had evolved around its illicit use.

Anyone discovered to be using phazon for non-research purposes was executed. Reservicing was rarely an option, since the the toxin rendered subjects addicted and somewhat insane. The problem came when groups of pirates used it in tandem, neglecting to report one another and allowing a large circle of addicts to fester.

Phazon was vibrant and blue, and its remnants were not hard to spot on one's mandibles or nares. But as the more careless addicts were swiftly outed, those with enough wherewithal to hide were still among us.

The addicts were spoken of, but by the time I arrived they were rarely seen. I had only heard of them through logs and rumors.

387 had been assigned as my assistant in a frustratingly small labspace. Our only duty was to incinerate and record energy readings from phazon. It was repetitive, far more tedious than anything I'd done in my previous assignment.

Though the research did hold promise; phazon was potent, with almost a thousand times more output than fuel gel. The only problem was that it was limited. So limited, in fact, that I easily noticed the small amounts that went missing from our stocks on a daily basis.

I became determined to catch the thief. 387 and I alternated, never leaving the lab empty. Within two days, we found the source of the missing inventory.

A huge metal grate rested in the corner of the lab; a source of waste disposal. I waited on the opposite side, frozen in place as the thief began to reveal himself. The floor came apart at its seams as he raised the grate and emerged.

I was shocked to see that the culprit was a pirate nearly three times my size. His exoskeleton was pockmarked with luminous blue pustules, no doubt a result of his feeding habits. As soon as he was free from the floorboards, he made his way to our phazon stores.

Despite his size, he appeared unarmed. I imagined there was no weapon system large enough for him to handle. I took aim at his leg, at one of his larger pustules. It seemed a viable weak point.

I unleashed a barrage of plasma fire. The blister began to leak phazon-tainted blood, and the Unit cried in pain. As expected, he fell to his knee, and I moved in closer.

The Unit drove his spear-like claws into a nearby canister of phazon, letting the vile substance ooze onto him. Almost as soon as he did so, he found the strength to stand. I stepped back, surprised at his nearly-instantaneous recovery.

He reared up to his full height and charged me. I could not take proper aim, for he moved too fast to follow. He lunged and drove me to the ground, easily overpowering me.

I supposed it was not surprising, considering his size. There was no caste of pirate that grew so large. This Unit could not merely hide his addiction; there was no way to disguise the physical effects it had had on him.

The notion that a simple chemical could so vastly augment a pirate was beyond all reasoning. Yet it seemed the proof was right before me, with its claws wrung about my neck.

The sound of rending flesh filled my ears, and for a moment I feared the corrupted Unit had sliced clean through my throat.

To my relief I saw that it was 387 who had drawn his blade. His blow seemed to attract the addict's attention, and he released his hold on me. The Unit roared with bloodlust. I wheezed, and wondered if the lack of oxygen had caused me to hallucinate as I saw 387 dispel his blade.

"Unit, stand down, and I will give you all the phazon you desire," 387 said. I couldn't believe what he was doing. Was he attempting to barter with the hostile?

"What the hell are you thinking," I snarled. There was no way this Unit would face anything but execution. The very same could be said of 387 if he chose to conspire with him.

The titanic pirate seemed intrigued by the proposition. "You will give me phazon?" His voice was twisted and hoarse.

"Yes, of course, take all you want from our stores. I will not stop you."

387's compliance was beginning to enrage me. "Coward," I spat. "You snivelling _coward_." I coughed with the strain of words coming from a torn throat. Once my strength returned I resolved to execute them both.

The addict went to work on our phazon, easily breaking the containers and voraciously consuming the contents. It was a putrid thing to watch. Phazon was a fuel, and a toxic one at that. I could only imagine the internal damage it was doing. The growths on the Unit's body pulsed as he fed, eliciting painful shudders.

As he ravaged our stores I felt my blade-arm twitch. I was furious at 387 for having so easily surrendered. I was in no position to accuse another of treason, but this sort of cowardice in the face of a traitor was inexcusable.

I was about to voice my protest when a troupe of pirates rushed into the lab. They seemed unphased by the massive size of the corrupted Unit. They did not fire plasma shots, but rather something akin to an electric shock.

The addict roared in pain, he tore himself from his toxic feast to face the oncoming assault. Wave after vivid wave of non-lethal static pulsed through his exoskeleton. It took multiple shockwaves from five systems just to bring him to his knees.

I understood now that 387 had merely been stalling. He had deceived the addict, feigning compliance simply to neutralize him until help arrived.

"Why is he bleeding, Unit 387?" a new voice inquired.

"He attacked 215, I was merely making sure he did not-"

A claw viciously raked across the back of 387's head. "I told you no unnecessary harm was to come to the corrupted one, did I not?"

387 bowed his head. "Forgive me, 056."

What was going on? Was not the addict to be executed? Why was 056 making such an effort to keep him alive and unharmed?

"Restrain him. Make preparations to transfer him to research lab Hydra."

"Transfer?" I demanded. "Why is this abomination not being executed!"

"Do you challenge my orders, 215?" 056 turned an incriminating glare to me. "Perhaps you'd like to join him as a test subject."

I bowed, and adjusted my tone. "No, sir."

Though I showed outward submission, I could not help but feel disgusted as the addict was dragged away. That such a thing was allowed to exist was infuriating.

And yet despite his despicable addiction, I could not deny the incredible effect phazon had had on his body. The fact that he was even alive after having consumed so much was a feat in itself.

I had no doubts that High Command would want to make use of him as quickly as possible.


	45. Logs of Unit 215- Log 6: Experimentation

The addict would become the catalyst for the future of all phazon research.

High Command shifted their focus from using phazon as a fuel to using it as a mutagen. I was relieved to finally do away with the tedium of fuel-testing; live test subjects were far more engaging.

We began with Tallon natives. Phazon occurred in every environment on the planet's surface, and most of its inhabitants already bore its influence.

It was comparable to a fungus, growing on its own and spreading through the release of spores. Creatures could only be affected by it if they consumed it, which was common due to its abundance on the ground.

The most common effect of phazon on Tallon's fauna was a great increase in size and aggression. Often creatures even developed novel natural weapons.

These were not simply side effects of a fantastic drug, but traits evolved to fulfill a specific purpose. Phazon thrived more in living tissue than anywhere else. More tissue meant more room to grow, and more aggression, particularly in predators, meant more fuel to aid that growth.

It was a cycle. Ingest phazon, aggressively consume prey, and then grow to facilitate more phazon. It was repeated over and over until the body exhausted itself and burnt out. Living things could not grow without limit. Uncontrolled cell replication inevitably led to cancers; the body's own cells fought against it, drained it, and in the end killed it.

It was peculiar to me that phazon did not appear to spread directly from creature to creature. Perhaps I only found it so because I had previously studied earth viruses.

Both phazon and terrestrial viruses thrived in living tissue, and so it made sense that they would both evolve to seek it. A virus gained new territory by spreading from one body to another. Phazon's strategy seemed to be creating new tissue in a single body. It simply expanded its current host, rather than seeking new ones. I suppose the fact that it could not actively spread made it far less dangerous than anything created in my previous assignment.

This growth-inducing aspect made phazon a valuable research subject. But phazon was toxic in and of itself. The only reason Tallon's creatures held some resistance was because they had had millennia to adapt to it. When phazon was first introduced, I had no doubt it brought with it a mass extinction.

A too-high dosage would kill even the hardiest creatures instantly. In moderate amounts, it produced the results we desired.

My favorite subject became the lowly 'parasite'. So-named because it was common vermin in the labs, feeding off scraps and even live test subjects, damaging enclosures and gnawing their way into small spaces. Its name was more of an insult than a scientific description. In actuality, it was a scavenger and occasional predator, and really had nothing truly parasitic about it.

But what made them useful was their sheer abundance. The high casualties from phazon-testing were inconsequential, since more parasites were easy to acquire. We abused this, along with their already considerable resistance to phazon. Within a few months, we had produced mutant parasites nearly fifty times larger than the original.

Yet these individuals rarely lasted more than a few days at their optimal size. It was the same culprit every time. Eventually a tumor, usually many, would form that the parasite's body could no longer fight, it would fester and grow, block something vital, and it would be over.

We took the phazon strains from those with the greatest longevity, and cultivated them in new hosts. We hoped to develop a strain which would allow subjects to last as long as possible.

The parasites grew best if exposed to phazon while still embryonic. It happened one trial that an egg turned out with twins. Protocol demanded I dispose of one, as two subjects sharing a test chamber could compromise the data. But I was curious what would happen, and perhaps a tad lazy, and so I allowed them to grow in tandem.

They were exposed to our latest phazon strain, and grew fifty-fold the standard size, like all the rest. They stopped growing at last, and I knew within the next few days the twins, along with every other test subject, would be dead. I would simply need to record how long it took.

Each parasite in this batch had been infused with the same strain. And so, not accounting for slight variations in the parasites themselves, they were expected to die within roughly the same time period.

The first died within three days. The next died within hours of the first, and the next came two days after.

Finally the first of the twins died. I expected the other to follow soonafter, and at first it seemed it would be so. The second twin became lethargic, swollen and sickly. It even neglected to finish eating its dead brother. Yet, to my surprise, it recovered. Within one week, it was fully active once more, voracious and hungry. It even outgrew the other test subjects.

Finally, it too died, albeit a full eighteen days after the others.

It was a remarkable result, and I was eager to know the cause. I isolated the strain from the second twin, and prepared a new batch of parasites. This time, each test chamber contained two subjects. I wanted to be sure the first result was not merely an anomaly.

I saw my observations repeated. In every chamber, one subject died before the other, the remaining one became sick, and then recovered. The deaths of the primary and secondary parasites were all in line with one another. Was being in contact with the dead influencing the phazon strain in the living?

I tested my theory again. I set up a new batch of test subjects, this time separated in every way except a shared air supply. Once more, one parasite's death marked a period of illness in the others, followed by an extended period of growth and eventually death long after the original's.

I looked at the strains of phazon as the experiment progressed. After a parasite's death, it evolved rapidly, and these changes spread to every strain with which it shared an air supply.

Incredibly, phazon was capable of some sort of group evolution. One parasite died, a disadvantage to the lifeform living within it, and this situation was somehow made known to other phazon cells around it. The test subjects became sick as the phazon struggled to change itself, as it "tried" to avoid causing them the same fate as the first parasite.

Somehow, even without a brain, phazon was a learning creature.


	46. Logs of Unit 215- Log 7: Phazon Elites

_Author's Note: I apologize for the lack of updates lately. Rest assured I haven't forgotten or given up on the story, but I have less time to write than I used to. I will try to maintain a more regular update schedule._

_A slight clarification. In the preceding chapters, I used the term 'cycle' to refer to a period comparable to a few days, rather than a year, as it is used in the games. This is a habit carried over from another writing project, wherein 'cycle' is used to describe a work shift, after which results are officially reported. It has since been retconned, and from hereon in, it refers to approximately one year._

_Thanks for keeping with the story. As always, criticism and comments are welcome!_

* * *

Once I learned of phazon's peculiar ability to evolve as a group, it was an easy matter to develop a more long-lasting strain. I simply put as many parasites as possible into a single test chamber, made a small effort to separate them, then fed them copious amounts of phazon.

Just as before, they more or less died in succession, with the phazon reacting and changing as each did so. Those left thrived and grew larger, lived longer.

I noticed other changes besides size. The parasites' mandibles and claws became harder and more dangerous. Their acid-producing sacks expanded, and the solution within them became more potent. Perhaps most notable was the steep rise in aggression. The tiny things would screech and claw at their containers, reacting quite violently if I even passed by. It began to occur to me that the end result might be something quite dangerous.

The increase in the parasites' growth was exponential, and I was not certain when it would stop. 387 became quite adamant that I end it before it got out of hand.

Despite my curiosity at how large a monster I could create, I knew all too well the consequences of an out-of-control experiment. I worried that the parasites' growth would soon outdo our ability to provide containment. With only half the subjects dead, I decided to heed 387's advice, and end the trials early. The labrats I terminated were more than four-hundred times the size of the original specimens, even larger than I was. It was almost comical that the things used to be small enough to crush underfoot.

I extracted the newly evolved phazon strain and tested it on a fresh batch of parasites. The effects carried over from the last experiment, producing a remarkable longevity and augmentation. It was by and far the most successful strain to date, and the fact that I had ended its development early only meant it had even more potential.

High Command was pleased by my results, and ordered the strain to be mass produced. It was with great pride that I accepted a promotion and subsequent transfer to Tallon's surface, where I could continue my research uninhibited by the subpar equipment of Orpheon. I only requested that 387 be allowed to transfer with me.

The pirate wasn't inclined to do his own research, and seemed only eager to help me. He was, as I learned, grown and programmed merely as a Science Team assistant. Little more than a drone, perhaps only a bit more intelligent than the average trooper, not suited to spearhead research on his own.

But for what he lacked in ambition, he more than made up for in attentiveness and skepticism. He had this strange paranoia about him, with a tendency to always assume the worst and act accordingly. As a result, he was rarely unprepared, whether it be for the escape of a test subject or some dangerous breach in protocol.

He was valuable to me, both as an advisor and an ally. And when it came to High Command, he and I knew better than anyone that they were capable of great oversights. It was only under their orders that Science Team had made their greatest blunders. If the worst happened, I wanted at least one trusted skeptic by my side.

* * *

My methods were already being replicated on Tallon, but the research here was much farther ahead. While those on Orpheon were still running tests on native beasts, Science Team on the surface had begun testing phazon on our own kind.

At first, troopers had been selected from our ranks to serve as the first test subjects. To say that the results were disastrous would be an understatement.

Unlike the lowly addicts before them, which were executed in droves, these pirates had lived long enough to bear the true effects of phazon on the brain and body. The doses were much higher, and the strains more virulent than those used by substance abusers. All the normal side effects, nausea, hallucinations, were present but short-lived as the infusion progressed past the first stage. Addiction, of course, was an everlasting trait.

Unlike parasites, pirate test subjects did not develop cancers. As more phazon was introduced to their systems, they died off in scores due to rapid neurodegeneration. The onset was sudden and devastating. As I read through the logs, I was surprised to see that every Unit who entered the program ended up dead within a cycle.

More surprising was the fact that the strain they had used had come straight from the addict captured on Orpheon. Only after reading of Science Team's first trials on pirates did I realize just how unique he truly was. Even now, he somehow maintained his sanity. He was growing larger and more powerful by the day, but miraculously failed to develop a degenerate brain. Yet the phazon he held within him completely destroyed other pirates.

It was obvious that his own genome had been fundamentally altered by phazon, and so the next step taken had been to clone him. The embryos were then infused with his strain. These trials too, ended in disaster. Brain degeneration occurred early in development, and barely any of the clones lived past infanthood. So brief was their lifespan that the few that did survive were taken from their tanks as juveniles.

For the first time in recent memory, pirates had been birthed before reaching adulthood. Granted, these individuals had been phazon mutants. Evidently High Command had been desperate to see if any field use at all could be gleaned from them before their inevitable demise. Unfortunately, they soon suffered the same fate as their younger brethren, going into psychotic episodes of aggression as their brains turned to pulp.

The addict became known as test subject Upsilon, but I knew him simply as an anomaly. Neither his phazon strain nor his mutant DNA seemed able to replicate his phenomenal condition. Some other factor was playing a part, yet despite thousands of tests, Science Team had yielded nothing.

I was eager to have a look inside his head, to know exactly what chemical and biological processes were keeping the freak alive and sane. External scans could only tell so much, especially with the horrid interference of phazon radiation. The only way to really investigate would be to open him up, and this was out of the question. Upsilon's condition and inability to be replicated made him valuable beyond compare. To even attempt to injure him would likely constitute treason.

So Tallon's Science Team moved on from the idea. Upsilon was kept away in a quarter deep in the mines, continuing to augment himself with phazon. If Upsilon could not be replicated directly, then he would simply have to be recreated.

And so the strain I had developed on Orpheon came into play, with surprising success. The pirate embryos that grew in its presence survived to adulthood almost indefinitely. More than twenty times the size of a standard trooper and with the strength and self-control to match, these were the soldiers High Command had only dreamed of. The fruit of our labors became known as the Elite Pirates, and they were certain to usher in a new era of dominance for our people.


	47. Logs of Unit 215- Log 8: Twin Disasters

These seemed like idyllic times for Science Team. Phazon had allowed us to create the strongest soldiers in centuries, to utilize an incredible alternative starship fuel. And we had had no hostile contact with the Federation in cycles.

Research was progressing well, our Elites were growing stronger. Weapons systems were swiftly produced and distributed large enough for them to handle. It was almost disappointing that no feuds with the Federation had arisen lately. I was eager to loose the Elites on them.

Thus far there was really only one problem that kept this era of research from being halcyon.

The problem of phazon abuse among the non-Elite had resurfaced. Though execution was no longer the punishment for such a crime, the lifetime sentencing to Metroid research seemed an even more effective deterrent, or so we had thought. Even the threat of being used as live food did not keep some pirates from stealing and consuming rations from the Elites.

Their habits spoke of poor discipline, and the very act of their thievery was a setback to our Elite forces. I thought only the worst of them, until I witnessed one being created for myself.

It was time for the midday ration. As I waited, I glanced toward a standard trooper, turned away from his meal. A moderate-sized Elite passed by, and slipped something into his ration.

I immediately brought attention to it. The Elite was seized by guards, and the situation investigated. My suspicions were confirmed as it was revealed that the Elite had slipped a bit of his own phazon-infused ration into that of the trooper.

Was this the main cause of the rise in substance-abuse? Some twisted practical joke? A part of me feared it was something far more sinister. These Elites were infected with phazon, and I had just witnessed one trying to pass it on. It seemed like a stretch, but it was possible that I had witnessed phazon's first evolutionary attempts to spread from one individual to another.

Of course, it may have been my paranoia getting the best of me. Nevertheless, the incident prompted a strict segregation protocol, so that there was no chance of future rations mixing.

The problem of substance abuse dropped off quickly after. Things became quiet, uneventful for a while. It was a silence preceding great disaster. The slow descent of Tallon's forces into chaos began with a distress signal, sent from our orbiting base.

A test subject of monstrous size and power had escaped. A parasite augmented beyond all expectations, more than two-thousand fold the size of the original Tallon specimens. It had developed the ability to fire a weapons-grade blast of acid from its maw, dagger-like forelimbs which could slice clean through a pirate's spine. It had used them to tear through Orpheon, leaving hundreds of bodies in its wake. Evidently, its rampage had allowed another parasite of equal size to escape. One ravaged even the escape pod room, leaving very few with the chance to leave.

I was furious. I had exercised caution, to prevent such a disaster from ever happening. I left a detailed warning that my work with the parasites was best left discontinued, before something truly large and dangerous could arise. Yet High Command had ordered it to continue despite my recommendations.

I fervently wished that I could scold and humiliate them for their mistake. But doing so would result in little more than a demotion and ration cut for insubordination. Perhaps even worse, if I was not careful. It angered me greatly that High Command could not be held accountable for anything, that those caught voicing disapproval risked their lives. It began to dawn on me just how despicable a system we lived in.

Because of them, hundreds of experiments had to be abandoned, Tallon's labs would now be ludicrously overcrowded. I very much doubted Command's ability to deal with the surplus of pirates and newfound shortage of rations. I supposed many of the refugees would be used as target practice for the Elites, or perhaps as live food for the test subjects in the lower mines. At least some use would come of them.

The pirates from Orpheon were still being dealt with when the frigate inexplicably came crashing to the ground.

* * *

A search team was sent to neutralize any remaining threats and determine the cause of the crash. The real danger on everyone's mind, though, was whether or not the titanic parasite was still alive. I certainly did not relish in the idea of one tearing through my equipment here in Elite research.

Luckily, its corpse was found, though with some discouraging forensics. The half of its body that was not incinerated in the reactor was covered in energy burns of alien origin. Many of the would-be survivors were found with the same signature. An enemy to the space pirates had entered Orpheon, and in all likelihood was still lurking around Tallon IV.

We were put on high alert. Scores of specialized troops were stationed in every lab and outpost. Even those on Science Team were given high-caliber weapons and blades.

The intruder bore its way through our labs in Phendrana. The step-ups in security meant nearly nothing, as bodies piled up indiscriminate of caste. Our forces were decimated at every turn.

The subject was identified as human, female, Federation-affiliated. As a visual description became available, I realized it was the very same orange-clad meddler I had met aboard that ill-fated frigate all those cycles ago. She was known as the Hunter, and she was quickly gaining a reputation as a most brutal exterminator.

High Command offered great rewards, promotions, and upgrades to anyone who could kill or disable her. All their offers truly did was convince more fools to cast themselves into the line of fire. I wanted the Hunter dead as much as any other pirate, but it was clear that a standard trooper would not be the one to do it.

She at last made her way to the mines, to my lab. Here yet again to ravage my data, and now to sabotage everything I had worked on.

Despite the numerous reports of her supposed power, she was still as unintimidating and small as I remembered. Her imposing shoulders did little to disguise that tiny human figure.

387 and I watched from the research catwalks, high above her head. She wasn't even two meters tall, and I doubted she would even reach my waist. This was the Hunter that had caused us so much grief?

I nearly laughed, but restrained myself to avoid detection. I didn't want to add to her body count, comical as it was to have been imposed by such a small creature.

I punched in a command to a nearby console. Phazon vapor spilled into the air as a nearby Elite awoke from stasis.

The Elite's eyes locked onto the approaching human. He became immediately enraged. Too impatient to wait for his stasis tube to open, the aggressive creature punched straight through the glass.

He threw himself at the Hunter, claws aglow like luminous daggers. She easily dodged him, and unleashed a barrage of fire from the alien cannon atop her arm. The Elite quickly responded, raising his hand to activate his siphon, drawing in her fire and absorbing it into his body.

But the Hunter was well-prepared. She quickly shifted weapons, and let loose an incredible blast of artillery fire from her cannon. It bypassed the siphon and hit the Elite square in the chest. He recoiled in pain, and just as quickly the Hunter resumed fire.

He fired his own weapons. Barely any rounds hit the nimble target, and those that did left negligible damage. I could hardly believe my eyes. The Elite roared one last time before the Hunter struck a final blow right between the eyes. He fell backwards and collapsed onto the floor.

I was awestruck, furious and humiliated. That our most powerful forces were put to shame like this was unthinkable.

Two more Elites lie in stasis. I released them together, and watched as they too fell, one after the other to the Hunter.

The only pirates left wielding weapons were me and my feeble assistant. And what chance did we have, if the Hunter had so easily taken out three of our strongest warriors?

It was hopeless. I was not foolish enough to put myself before her cannon, and so I could do little else but watch as she delved her way ever deeper into the mines.

I could hear the roars and cries of my brethren echoing from the chambers below. She was moving quickly. Additional forces had already been summoned, and were no doubt failing to make a difference.

By the end of the day, it was over. The Hunter had forged her way through the entirety of the mines, stealing whatever data she pleased, and killing anyone who sought to stop her.

So many Elites wasted, killed by a petty intruder, never having the chance to see a real battlefield. But an even greater travesty than their demise had come to pass.

The zenith of phazon research, our greatest weapon, Elite Pirate Upsilon was dead. A titan among us, irreplaceable and unique, now gone and wasted.

It was a great blow to our forces, perhaps even more so than the combined death of every Elite and standard trooper. But perhaps in his demise lie an opportunity. For now, after all these cycles of being forced to smother my curiosity, I had a chance to sate it.

I retraced the Hunter's footsteps, and made my own way into the lower mines to find the corpse of Upsilon.


	48. Logs of Unit 215-Log 9:Sentient Parasite

Upsilon's quarter was abandoned. I covered my nares as they filled with the overwhelming stench of phazon.

It was sickening to the point of nausea. It was everywhere, on the floor, the walls, the equipment, and of course on Upsilon's body. It oozed from the numerous energy burns on his exoskeleton. Normally the substance would be behind metal and glass, safely contained. I suppose I should have guessed there would be different conditions here.

The mutant pirate was enormous, his head alone nearly as big as I was. I had not expected him to be so titanic, nor did I expect the copious amounts of uncontained phazon.

I summoned 387 to assist me and bring equipment while I kept watch over Upsilon. My assistant arrived with a much-needed gasmask which I eagerly donned. The stench was horrid, and I was afraid I would develop a liking for it if I was exposed too long.

He also brought with him a sizeable bonesaw and container. Upsilon was far too large to transport whole, His brain was the main point of intrigue, and so I set to severing the dead thing's neck.

The grating sound of shearing exoskeleton filled the chamber. I cringed as I felt something hot begin to lap at my feet. I looked down to see the black blood of Upsilon forming a shallow pool beneath me. It was tinted a dark blue, flecked with luminous bits of phazon.

The reaction was delayed, but I slowly became aware of the fact that it was burning away my skin. I needed to work quickly before it became unbearable.

The satisfying snap of a spine followed by a huge spilling of fluid signified the conclusion of my task; Upsilon had been decapitated. His mandibles lolled to the side, dead eyes locked in a blank stare forward.

We took our precious sample back to the labs with a great sense of urgency. Phazon had a tendency to eat away at dead tissue. It was paramount that I dissect Upsilon while he was still warm.

I found myself with a curious sense of excitement. For so long I could only guess the reasons why Upsilon had such control over the phazon in his system, why he was such a remarkable exception to all our preconceived rules.

Brain surgery was not something with which I had previous experience. But the knowledge was there, passed down and programmed into every pirate within the prevailing castes of Science Team. I knew what a pirate brain looked like, how it functioned. I would be able to recognize anything new or unusual, anything that could be applied to the vital area of research that was improving our Elites.

I held my breath in anticipation as a razor-thin beam of light made a neat incision along his forehead. A sickening, squirming noise filled the lab as I split the creature's head open.

I instinctively backed away as a thick cloud of vapor fogged the glass of the operation chamber.

"What the hell is this?!"

Upsilon's skull was filled with nothing but phazon. I could barely make out a brain at all. Was I too late? Had it already spread and begun to feed? From all appearances it seemed the contents of the pirate's head had deteriorated to the point where no worthwhile data was salvageable.

I was frustrated at the fact that this was all in vain. But as I probed the putrid mass of parasite within the Elite's skull I realized it was thick, grooved. It felt nothing so much like grey matter. It was tied intrinsically to a smaller, whiter organ, what was left of the pirate's original brain.

I scanned the tumor and found it was firing residual electric signals. It was connected to the spine, to nerves that would have led to the rest of Upsilon's body. All that was left of a pure, pirate brain was reduced to a tiny mass, hanging off the periphery of the parasite.

Upsilon's brain had not merely deteriorated. It had been entirely consumed by phazon. The parasite had taken over. What's more, it had never even betrayed the fact that it did so. It had mimicked the original perfectly, speaking, moving, doing everything exactly as we did.

This was why he had been a mystery. The neurodegeneration observed in other test subjects was merely a result of phazon attempting to do in them what it had done in Upsilon. It was only by sheer luck that it had managed not to kill him.

Suddenly everything made sense. I remembered the Elite I had seen, trying to slip phazon-infused rations into a trooper's meal. The phazon in his head was trying to infect others, to create new additions to this freakish, alien cult.

Phazon learned, it evolved, it did whatever it could to propagate itself. And now we had made it intelligent. It was terrifying that we had allowed it to come this far.

How long before it gained the ability to spread? Before every pirate became like the Elites, like Upsilon? It would not need to conceal itself as it had done before.

This could not be allowed to go any further.

* * *

"Cease all phazon experiments? Are you insane, Unit 215?"

"The only reason Upsilon was such a success is because phazon took up the purpose of his brain!" I explained. "It fooled us into thinking he was one of our own. Upsilon was nothing but a shell, a mindless host for the parasite. Infecting Elites.. infecting pirates, we're just turning ourselves over to be slaves!"

"And?"

I stopped for a moment, sputtering as I withheld my indignant rage. High Command was shrugging the issue off as if it were nothing.

"With all due respect, Sir," I said, gritting my teeth. "I must ask you to elaborate on why you do not consider this a problem."

"These 'phazon-controlled' Elite, they can follow orders, can they not? Did Upsilon not fight against the Hunter alongside our forces until his dying breath? Did he not obey his commanders with utmost loyalty?"

"I suppose, but-"

"Then it is not an issue."

Command's refusal to acknowledge the threat was infuriating, and I was not sure how I would convince them of the gravity of the situation.

"But what if it becomes an issue?" 387 interjected. Instinctively, I wanted to stop him, to notify him that he was speaking out of line, but perhaps he had some insight that I had not yet put forth. "Phazon might be controllable now, but it is an alien lifeform, we cannot ensure it will not rebel in the future."

"Phazon's only interest is propagation, the same as any species," I continued. "What happens when its interests go against ours? What happens when it infects enough pirates, if it reaches even you?"

My last remark seemed to strike a chord. "Obviously we will not allow it to get that far," he replied pompously.

I stifled a laugh. "And how do you propose we ensure that, without stopping phazon research?"

"You will watch your tone, 215."

I bowed my head, adjusting myself. High Command may be foolish, but they had power, and I did not want to risk their wrath.

"We will keep an eye on all phazon subjects. I will spread word of your discovery to the rest of Science Team. Presumably knowing the threat will allow us to control it, should it come to that."

I shook my head. Once again I feared that High Command's arrogance would become our undoing. They had made this mistake on Orpheon, disregarding my warnings. I was tempted to mention it, but bringing up one of their blunders could certainly only end badly for me. No, I had to work within their idiotic requisites.

"At the very least, can I have your approval to instigate research into this matter? Would it not be preferable to have Elites which can control phazon on their own without having it completely take over?"

The Command official hesitated before providing an answer. "I suppose that's acceptable. I will hand over your current research to someone else. Obviously someone as obstinate as you to work with phazon is no longer a suitable candidate for these kinds of experiments."

"Yes, Sir."

"You are dismissed. Send us a proposal for your new project within the next few days."

I nodded along, bowed my head and cut the connection. The face of High Command disappeared.

I slammed a fist into the console, baring my teeth in a sneer. I roared, making my timid assistant cringe in fear.

"Idiots! Fucking _idiots_, the lot of them!"

I took out my anger on the communications terminal, gashing it out with my blade as I screamed in frustration.

I glared at 387. "Not a word of this to anyone."

He bowed his head in submission, and did not respond. But I knew from experience that he was on my side. He was just as aware of our leaders' incompetence as I was.

But at the very least, they had given me approval to spearhead new research. I had to find a way to grant us control over phazon before High Command led us all to ruin.


	49. Logs of Unit 215-Log 10: Human Testing

Project Helix was destined for disaster from the very start. We were a species defenseless in the face of alien disease, and here we had sought to use such a disease as a weapon. Now we were on the verge of a calamity. It was only a matter of time before phazon figured out a more efficient way to gain new hosts.

I needed to get off this planet, away from this hellish research. If I could not stop it from happening then I would find a way to combat its inescapable effects.

Phazon was evolving. Its spread was inevitable, and we were little more than the catalyst. If it became as intelligent as us, who knew? Perhaps it would spread far beyond Tallon, into the stars, conquering new worlds and new species. Perhaps it would one day reach our far-off homeworld.

Out of fear, I began my desperate search for a way to modify us to resist phazon's control.

* * *

Research frigate Siriacus was one of the oldest ones in service. It was kept rigorously updated, with only the most advanced technologies. It specialized in weapons development, robotics and armor. Anything on the mechanical side of warfare usually stemmed from here. Even so, it was well equipped for every manner of biological experiment, even if the facilities were rarely used.

I chose Siriacus mostly for the fact that it was light years away from Tallon, from any laboratory doing any kind of phazon research. When things broke down, I did not wish to be anywhere near the epicenter. My reasoning to High Command about why it was the most well-equipped frigate for my research was utter nonsense, but at the very least they bought it.

Once I and 387 were aboard this phazon-devoid vessel, I found it much easier to focus. Now was the time to plan the best course of action. I was faced with a novel problem, and there was no past research to fall back on.

Creating a new gene for as specific a purpose as this was too complex a task; it simply could not be done. I was much better off using an already-existing gene, and if pirates did not have such a thing then perhaps the answer lie in another species.

I hadn't the slightest idea where to start. Anatomically speaking, there were very few species which resembled us. Looking through our records, the closest creature I found was a native to Aether, a little-studied planet on the edge of Federation territory. Presence of an exoskeleton, a spine, large body mass, even a similar center of gravity and locomotion. But the species was highly advanced, far outclassing us. It would be foolish to risk sparking a conflict by taking them as test subjects.

Vhozon? Phrygisian? No, their body chemistries were based on sub-zero liquids, and research on them was unlikely to be applicable to us. And once again the problem of starting an unneeded conflict with another advanced race arose.

A primitive race would be preferable, or perhaps one with which we were already at war.

It struck me that humans had evolved on a planet rife with disease. Their homeworld was a cesspool of microbial enemies. Surely they, of all sentients, could evolve a resistance to phazon.

I at first laughed at the idea. The thought of using human genes in any way to improve ourselves was absurd. Yet as I delved deeper, I learned that we were more similar to humans than I would have liked to know.

We were both carbon-based. We were both creatures which breathed molecular oxygen. We shared more than half of our amino acids. Our DNA was similar in chemical structure, albeit oriented in different ways...

But no, no, humans were far more frail. Blades could cut so easily through their vulnerable flesh. Their blood chemistry was based on iron rather than arsenic, a small dose of which could effectively kill them.

Yet every human was a host to millions of other lifeforms, and they could remain perfectly healthy in spite of it. When it came down to strength at a cellular level, they were by and far the stronger creature. It made my stomach churn to admit it. It made me even sicker to entertain the idea of cracking into their genome in search of a cure for phazon control.

At the same time, I found the idea of using our hated enemy as test subjects to be utterly irresistible.

* * *

For the first time in decacycles, humans were taken as prisoners. I imagined the soldiers assigned to collect them were bitter when they received their orders. At the very least, having a talking, moving creature to toy with during transit must have offered some degree of entertainment.

They were marines, captured during a raid on an explorer-class vessel far outside the reach of human territory. They were stripped of their armor, many it seemed by brute force. Some were missing limbs, and I heard that twenty were originally en route as opposed to the mere fourteen that arrived.

Nevertheless, they would have to do. With the fresh test subjects in tow, I put to use the very first phazon on Siriacus.

I put the humans into two groups. One the control, the other to be infected. Once the infusion process began, I noticed very familiar symptoms. The humans would scream to themselves, hallucinate. They would beg for more phazon, addicted. They would writhe in pain when they consumed it. Their bodies loomed and mutated, overall transforming in much the same way ours had.

Interestingly, I noticed some of the same symptoms in the control group as well. Hallucinations and talking to oneself did not seem to be an affliction limited to those infected. It seemed to be little more than a result of prolonged confinement, and I began to wonder if there was any discernible difference between the ramblings of the infected and control.

I installed a rudimentary translator into the terminals of the lab. I could see everything each human was saying.

They were threats mostly, swears and pejoratives. Others were pleas, begging for freedom or extra rations. In the case of the infused, it was often for more phazon.

Yet one stood out to me. The things he said, I could only assume were jokes. Jabs, light-hearted insults. He would call me "his favorite pirate", then ask some stupid question that I refused to entertain. He referred to 387 as my possession, as some pejorative for human females lost in translation. He always had this ridiculous alien smile on his face. Perhaps if he had been in the test group, his demeanor would be different.

He seemed to maintain that asinine humor right up until the end of testing, when the infused humans began to die off.

Four out of the seven had their brains break down, just as the first pirates had. Two fell silent and withdrew, their eyes blank and deadened while their bodies still drew breath. I slit their throats and opened their heads to find that phazon had consumed their brains, much as it had in Upsilon. The very last test subject outlasted the others by many, many months, despite the constant infusion of phazon.

The deterioration was significantly prolonged. It seemed as though the parasite had a hard time establishing itself in his brain at all. Finally, though, it broke through, and he died in a froth of blood and spit. Still, the initial resistance he showed piqued my interest.

He could not have been more than seventeen solar cycles in age. It was a fascinating result. Age was the only factor I could see that had been majorly different from the others, and it seemed to have had a profound effect on his reaction to the infection.

When I dated the other dead infected, I found that the four which had died had been the oldest. The two who had survived, brains consumed, were the median, with the strange, long-lived outlier the youngest. The pattern was erratic at best, but it seemed to point to an interesting trend.

The younger the subject, the more resistance they seemed to have to phazon. I resolved to procure a new demographic for the next phase of testing.


	50. Logs of Unit 215- Log 11: First Success

Juveniles were much harder to come by than their older counterparts. Humans below a certain age were forbidden to join the Federation army, or to even be aboard militant-class ships.

In all these years of war, I had never actually seen a human child. They were protected, kept out of warzones and insulated far away from the conflict-rich rim of Federation space. Procuring them would require a direct invasion of human territory.

My rank and stature allowed me to commission such a venture within the cycle. I sent out five ships to a human station colony named New Overath. Even this tiny spaceborne town had a great deal of military strength within short range. It was standard nowadays, for every settlement to be heavily defended. The humans had lost most of the territory where such a practice was not in effect.

But despite these security measures, I would have my test subjects. Of the five ships I sent out, two returned, with one measly pair of subjects each. They had captured five humans in all, but after confirming the age of the fifth, I found she was far too old to be relevant. The idiots had brought an adult, albeit a short-statured one, which must have been the thing to cause confusion. I left her to the soldiers who had initiated the capture, and told them to do whatever they wished.

I had to adjust the restraints I had used on the last humans. The juveniles' small size was annoying, but at least it was less to handle, less to feed, and probably less to make noise with.

I had two males, and two females. An even distribution, but I was still quite peeved that I did not have more. I opted to have no control group this time. After all, I knew the effects of restraint and confinement on non-infected humans already.

The first male child was ten solar cycles old. He was the largest of the four, pale skin, short brown hair and a matching set of eyes. The second male was seven cycles, his skin and hair were dark as brinstone. There was so much variation between the test subjects, so much room for error, massively skewed results. I would simply have to make do.

The females I was hardly eager to use at all. Federation soldiers were mostly male, and the rare female among them was nearly always smaller, differently shaped from her counterparts. Humans did not optimize their pool of marines in the slightest, and accepted inferior specimens. It made little sense to me. Females of our own species had also been the physically weaker sex. They were purged long ago. Our soldiers were all at the zenith of strength for our species, perfect and resilient. They were the reason that we had so easily gained a foothold in Federation space.

I had little faith that these second two would prove to be good test subjects. One was four cycles old, the other five. They looked similar, though with slightly different hues in their eyes and hair.

All four were exquisitely noisy, and I had gravely misjudged the correlation between size and sound. They emitted this high-pitched wail, pocketed by sharp inhales of breath. It was accompanied by a profound leaking of fluid from the eyes.

Luckily for me, their cells had a soundproof function.

I led them forward by their chains. They were minuscule, and even collectively they would not have the strength to fight back. It was the first time I could remember handling the transport of my own test subjects. Usually an escort or method of containment was needed.

I had very nearly forgotten about the remaining humans in the control group, still waiting in the lab. As soon as they saw me approaching, their expressions changed. They took a particular interest in the juveniles, and immediately began talking.

With a dull sense of curiosity, I peered into the terminal to see what they were saying. The obnoxious one, to my surprise, seemed to be talking seriously.

"No.. you're using kids now… Come on man, we can work something out, yeah?" the human whimpered and begged. "I'll do whatever you want, take me, kill me, use me instead just let them go, please…"

Nothing of value was said, so I tuned it out. The human male wished to sacrifice himself for the smaller ones? Nonsensical, really. If anything, should not the older ones be more valuable? More resources were invested, more time spent growing to an adult.

Did all humans act this way? Were they all so eager to throw away their lives for their more frail comrades? It was insane to think that such a criminally inefficient species was able to hold its own against us in battle. Though that balance seemed to be slowly shifting in our favor.

At any rate, the leftovers from the last experiment were useless now. I sent the obnoxious beggar along with his friends into the incinerator below, and cleared out the cells for the newcomers.

* * *

The injections began. The first subject screamed and wailed so loudly that I found it physically painful. He only became louder after the phazon was within him. The adults had screamed too, certainly, but nothing quite like this. From the second test onward, I began simply depriving the test chambers of oxygen before entering. Then they were unconscious long before they could make any of that dreaded noise.

As I expected, the first to die was one of the females. It was the younger one. Phazon deteriorated her brain so fast that the others had not even had time to develop addictions yet.

A disappointing start, but luckily the others did not follow suit.

The males performed admirably, lasting far longer than any adult in their place. Eventually though, they became quiet and withdrawn. Lethargy usually accompanied phazon's consumption of the brain, at least in the adults. Soon, however, this stage passed, and the two spiraled into uncontrollable rage. Their voices changed in tone and volume. They were no longer crying, but screaming. There were no tears, but now violent spasms. One of them rammed his head into the floor with such vicious strength he managed to crack his own skull. If self-inflicted injury was possible, I would need to reconsider their restraints.

Their madness was no-doubt a result of their infection. It took many months, but eventually their brains deteriorated, and they died. After I picked them apart for post-mortem observations, I moved them to cold storage. I was running low on suitable rations for the fourth.

I supposed I would need to revisit my initial theory that the females were the weaker link. Perhaps they did not usually grow to the same size and bulk as their counterparts, but thus far I had no proof that their immune systems, their resistance to phazon, was any the lesser. The evidence seemed to point to the contrary, in fact.

One subject remained. The five cycles old girl, now nearly six. She had no psychotic rage, no violent, uncontrolled spasms. She had become very quiet. I at first feared that her lethargy was a result of phazon having consumed her brain. To my surprise, a cursory x-ray showed incredibly low amounts of radiation in her head. I did not even need to vivisect to tell, there was hardly any phazon in there at all.

Her appearance had changed drastically since she had arrived. I suppose I should have paid more attention to what she initially looked like, but luckily I had the data recorded.

Her hair had been red, her eyes green. Her hair was now white, her once-smooth face significantly gnarled and wrinkled. Her eyes were green on occasion, but more often turned to the harsh and vibrant blue of phazon. The change was subtle, and usually accompanied her injections.

Her resistance was truly unmatched. No matter how much phazon she was exposed to, she maintained her sanity, her mind remained wonderfully intact. By some miraculous combination of factors, she persevered. She was a survivor. Phazon could not kill her, nor could it control her. Even her addiction was relatively mild.

At last I had found my answer. This tiny human was the key to everything.


	51. Logs of Unit 215 - Log 12: Transfuse

_Author's note:_

_As I near the end of this arc, I feel it is necessary to give due credit. The concept and initial character of our little test subject was originally created by Insanity-Engine. She has been adapted, rewritten and redeveloped with permission._

_Her role in this story was originally the product of a collaborative writing experience shared almost three years ago, and a lot has changed since then. Kayleer and I owe a lot to Insanity-Engine(Delta-Hexagon on DeviantArt) and her character and I wish to give them credit._

_As always, thanks for reading._

* * *

"Will you tell me a story?"

In more recent days, I had made a habit of recording everything the test subject said. It was useless jargon, mostly, but I was curious to see if patterns arose. Every aspect of her behavior had to be recorded if the tests were to be at all valid.

"Okay, I'll make a story," she continued. "There once was a girl named Agatha. She was kidnapped by an evil, ugly ogre. One day a brave knight came and killed the ogre, and they lived happily ever after. The end."

She repeated herself quite often. This 'story' trope seemed to be the most often revisited. I could only guess as to why such a useless behavior had evolved. Basic creativity was important, certainly, to aid in problem-solving, to envision new inventions and solutions. To apply it to creating something as useless as a false story, though, where was the purpose?

I had long-confirmed that this subject had a remarkable inborn resistance to phazon. Since then, I had moved on to the next stage.

I had to pinpoint the genes responsible for her immunity. It was no doubt polygenic, and with more than 3 billion molecules in that chaotic assortment of chromosomes, I would have my work cut out for finding them.

The only way to know the effects of each gene was to silence them, and observe what went wrong in her system. Usually even a small omission would result in major organ failure. Eventually I started infusing pirate DNA, my own, to compensate for what was lost. It worked, to a point, and I realized there was no better way to test the interaction of pirate and human genes than by starting with her. I referred to this new venture as project Transfuse.

The test subject's skin had turned a dark green. It was a strange reaction, to say the least. As more of her genome was infused, the sickly color faded, and gave way to pirate maroon. Her skin hardened and flaked, some imperfect combination of skin and exoskeleton.

Eventually, though, the pirate genes were not enough to repair her rapidly degenerating body, and I had to resort to life support systems. They kept her alive despite her body's failures, and oftentimes I could even replace failed organs with pirate ones or prosthetics. Transfuse became an interesting sort of patchwork, of human, pirate and machine.

Her human fingers began to fuse together, and I realized I had reached genes responsible for her hands. The first and second pair of digits melded, forming three fingers. The same set of genes must have affected her other extremities. The cells from the knee-down began to inexplicably die off, and her legs became useless deadweight. I did not want to risk the rot reaching farther up her body, and so I amputated both.

* * *

Transfuse had become quiet. No longer did she fill her tiny chamber with high-pitched wails and screams. She did not tell her "stories" anymore. Her eyes still leaked a saline fluid many times a day, so much so that she would dehydrate herself. I eventually grew tired of refilling her water supply, and simply put her on an IV.

She stopped eating, and I was forced to resort to a feeding tube. It became one of many peripherals attached to the mutant, just barely keeping her alive.

It was difficult to tell where one gene ended and another began. Sometimes they even overlapped, and huge sections were entirely functionless junk. Human DNA was inefficient, much like everything else about them.

I had to be extremely careful whenever I infused her. I had to watch her lifesigns dutifully, and observe if her immunity to phazon was altered in any way. Many times my tests resulted in cell degeneration or some eruption of infection, and I would quickly need to reverse what I had done. I would restore that particular set of genes, record the data, minimize the damage as best I could, and continue on.

As the months went by, Transfuse appeared to suffer significant cognitive deterioration. Nothing physical, but purely mental, behavioral. I could see it from her actions. She would stare into space, cringing with fear at nonexistent enemies. She would twitch her head erratically, shift from a smile to frantic, silent sobs. I was at first concerned that her immunity was not as strong as I initially theorized. However, it became apparent to me that her dementia was nothing more than the result of psychological stresses. I had seen the same thing in the control group all those cycles ago, and this behavior was merely another, more advanced variant.

Her brain, while now demented and insane from human pressures, remained unaffected by phazon.

* * *

Nearly four cycles had passed, and I felt I was nearing a breakthrough. High Command, however, had not seen what they considered significant progress in many years. They began to lose interest. They threatened to cut my funds and rations if I did not start delivering worthwhile results.

Fools, the lot of them. They did not consider a cure worthwhile, and they failed to understand the complexity of this experiment. It was not something that could be done swiftly. While the rest of Science Team trudged forward with their self-destructive research on phazon, I worked alone to save them from their own lethal error.

But despite my righteous purpose, I knew I needed the support of High Command. And if I would not donate my efforts to their phazon programs, then I would need to find something to do with Transfuse that would make her useful in their eyes.

I briefly averted my focus from the long process of altering her genome. High Command had mentioned some complaint about the cost of new troops. Many lost or broke limbs, and they had often sought an efficient way to repair them, rather than disposing of them as they usually did with worthless soldiers.

Prosthetics were often faulty, expensive and all around dysfunctional. It was admittedly not an area of technology we had made many advancements in. Perhaps I should be the one to change that.

I drafted and tested several designs over the next few months, finally settling on one with the perfect balance between cost and functionality.

I took Transfuse from her cell. She could do very little to resist me, having no way to walk. On the pathetic stubs of her legs, I built the two makeshift pirate prosthetics.

She writhed in the process, her restrained limbs fought desperately against their holds. And yet, as usual, she was utterly silent. Not a word escaped her open mouth, and I was quite relieved that no incessant pleas or screaming would be a distraction.

When I was finished, I tested them. I delivered an electrical shock into the living portion of her leg. Her metallic limb twitched in response, showing that the signal had carried successfully through.

I cast her back in her prison and restrained her arms like normal. Her legs, however, I left free, I needed to know if they worked.

I feared that she, in her defiance, would refuse to show me any results. But to my surprise, she did just the opposite. She stood, she raked her new claws against the ground and stared at them. She toyed with them, showing a wide array of movements. Her mutant face distorted just the tiniest of bits, a human smile etched across her mandibles. It faded just as quickly.

The thing was happy that it could walk again. But these prosthetics were only temporary. I would remove them after she had shown me they were consistently functional.

Satisfied that the design was a success, I left the room to give my report to High Command. My experiment was imperfect, anecdotal perhaps, and had no proof of repetition. But it was progress all the same, and they seemed satisfied enough to support further research. When I returned to the lab, I was surprised to see Transfuse was on her knees, her face buried in her ration dish. She had actually begun to eat again.

An interesting reaction. It seemed the new legs had boosted her morale enough to restore her appetite. That saved me the trouble of having to deal with her feeding tube, I supposed. For the sake of convenience I resolved that I would let her keep them for now.


	52. Logs of Unit 215- Log 13: Loss

"I hate you."

I looked up, surprised. The test subject had spoken for the first time in cycles, and in near-flawless Urtragian.

"Fascinating," I said. "How long have you been able to do that?"

There was no response. I peered into her cell. Her eyes were locked onto mine, twisted in a furious glare.

"So you've grown an Urtragian voice box. Tell me, did it transfigure from your old one, or grow like a new tumor and take up its purpose?"

Again there was no answer, and her eyes remained focused on me, enraged and unblinking.

I averted my gaze, going back to my work. "No matter. either way it stands to reason that your old one is defunct. I've barely heard a peep from you in years. And here I thought you'd merely learned to behave yourself."

"_I hate you," _she spat once more.

"Is that all you can say? Seven cycles here and all you've managed to pick up is three words."

"I'm going to get out of here, and I _will __**kill**_ _you_. I will make you suffer," the little mutant hissed. "I'll infect you with my own blood. Yeah, that's what I'll do. I'll see how _you_ tolerate a phazon infection."

I met her gaze, amused by her hubris. "Will you now? Well with any luck I won't be vulnerable to infection by then, thanks to you, of course."

"You're never getting it out of me," she spat. "I know what you're doing. Your plan is stupid. You'll just make yourself into a broken mess like me and then die."

I smiled. "Such cockiness. You are a child, and you are ignorant," I punched in a command to the console, preparing a serum for the new segment of DNA I had isolated.

"I don't care. I will still kill you. I will carve your eyes right out of your head," she growled, her voice rising. "I'll- I'll cut your head open and chop off your hands. I'll rip your heart out and-" she stopped suddenly, her expression turning nauseous. She opened her mouth and vomited up a sizable amount of blood. She groaned, her face distorted in pain. At least she had stopped talking.

"Now now, you'll only stress yourself thinking like that. You're fragile enough as it is, you know," I said, taking a now-full syringe.

It was true, she was still fragile. She was violently sick quite often, though she had made remarkable progress. She was more or less self-sufficient, with most of her old life-support systems now unneeded.

"Ready for another test?" I asked facetiously. Her pained expression twisted into a vicious scowl as she glared up at me with those luminous, now-yellow eyes.

I punched in a command as her chains pulled her back against the wall and held her immobile. I entered the test chamber, ready to plunge the syringe once more into the worn flesh of her neck.

An alarm blared, and I stopped in my tracks. I sneered, angry to have been interrupted. Unit 387 was outside, vigilant and quiet as ever, eyes glued to a terminal.

"Well, what is it? What _the hell_ is it this time?" I demanded.

"An intruder, sir."

I froze, I snarled. Again with this. I feared I knew all too well the answer to my next question. "Don't tell me it's _her_ again_._"

387 nodded. I growled with frustration. "Three times, that putrid little human has come to ruin everything."

When would I be rid of her? She was a relentless, ever-present thorn in my side. Reports of her sabotage flooded in from pirate vessels far and wide, and here she was again, undaunted. Was she really that hard to kill?

"We need to move," I ordered. "We cannot risk losing Transfuse."

"My knight is here... my knight is here," the mutant murmured. "He's gonna murder you, that's what's gonna happen."

"Oh shut up," I hissed, annoyed that I could no longer ignore her mumblings by simply switching off a translator.

"Where will we take her?"

"I will relocate her to the bunker in the lower level," I quickly devised. "It is storage space, no pirates, no research. The Hunter has far less reason to go there than the rest of the ship, and the vaults are fortified."

"Do you need any assistance?"

"No," I answered. "You remain here, keep watch, try to divert her if she comes in our direction."

He nodded complacently, and I tossed away my syringe. Testing would have to be postponed indefinitely.

I armed myself with a rifle and blade. They were in case I needed to subdue Transfuse, not the Hunter. I knew all too well how useless basic weaponry was against her. My current armor was barely superior to a militia unit. Useless, useless. An entire division of Science Team had been devoted to finding countermeasures for the Hunter, all without result. No, I would not be a fool and throw myself into her line of fire. My research was my only priority, and seven years of progress stood chained in a cell. I refused to lose her.

387 punched in the necessary commands and the mutant's hardlight chains unbound. Her arms fell limply to her sides, atrophied and weak. I need not waste time restraining them.

A thunderous rumble rocked down from the upper level as loose dust and debris shook free from the ceiling. She was getting closer.

I grabbed Tranfuse by the back of her neck and dragged her out of her cell. I had to hurry, I needed to get to safety. I rushed out the door and started making my way to the lower levels of the ship.

Transfuse was surprisingly complacent. She did not struggle, and she did not speak. And why should she? Surely even she could not ignore the massive difference in size between us. Even with my genes, she had barely managed to grow much taller than my waist.

But despite her silence I could see a wry, cocky smile etched across her face. She was cooperative on the outside, but I had no doubts about the insidious, defiant thoughts running through her head. I would have to resist the urge to beat her.

We passed through hallway after hallway. The lighting began to shift to one much dimmer as the less-maintained sections of the ship came up. We were getting close, we would be at safety soon.

The rumbles in the ship continued, and I could hear the sound of distant roars from above. A repetitive sound in my transceiver interrupted them, followed by a voice.

"215, she is looking for you."

I stopped dead in my tracks, my paranoia mounting. His voice was shaken and out-of-breath. Something had happened. "What do you mean?"

"She compromised every terminal in your lab. She knows, she wants Transfuse. I managed to flee but, she interrogated one of the technicians she found there before she shot him-"

"Did he give anything away?"

"Yes, he told her where you planned to escape to."

I snarled. The despicable little _coward_.

Where would we go now? To the escape pods? It seemed like such a drastic measure, but we had little choice. I changed course, I dragged Transfuse now in the opposite direction.

But the mutant was silent no longer. That bratty little grin had opened. She was laughing, giggling maniacally and spewing out taunts.

"You're gonna dieee, you're gonna diieee," she said lyrically. "Don't you get it?"

I could stand it no longer, and I stopped running for a moment. I struck the child across her face and snarled.

"Be quiet you _stupid little brat_!" I hissed. Her face had been bloodied by the rake of my claws, but that devilish, stubborn smile remained. She was still laughing.

I could barely hold myself back anymore. My anger was to the point where I was tempted to cut her open right then and there, just to make that smile go away.

But a noise distracted me from my fury. I looked up. The rumblings from above had stopped, replaced now by the subtle clank of metal through the vents.

I became quiet, under the assumption that I was being watched. I covered Transfuse's mouth with my hand and held her up against me.

I could feel my claw shaking as the child continue to giggle. Suddenly her mandibles stretched beneath my hand and snapped shut. I restrained myself from crying out as the brat bit down deep into my hand. I managed to keep quiet, but I could not hold back a flinch, one which freed the mutant's mouth just that smallest of bits.

"I'M IN HERE! I'M IN HERE!" she screamed, just before I muffled her voice once again with a bloodied hand. But it was already too late.

The clankings in the air shaft became louder and louder until the ceiling in front of me shattered. Something orange and metallic fell down in front of me, blazing gold and taking on the vaguely human form of the accursed Hunter.

In moments that glinting cannon was pointed straight at my head. Thinking quickly, I unsheathed my blade and raised it to Transfuse's neck. I held her up in front of me like a shield, hoping desperately that she would act as one.

To my surprise, it worked. The Hunter refused to fire, and I grinned wildly with the realization that I had a hostage. No doubt the Hunter found some sense of sympathy for the once-human creature in my arms.

We were at an impasse. My blade was at Tranfuse's neck, the Hunter's cannon pointed at my own. She refused to fire as long as I had my hostage. The little mutant was my key out of here. Slowly I backed away, towards the exit.

I was almost there, I was almost at the door. I glanced backward with my auxiliary eyes and could see it so tantalizingly close. I just needed to get there, I told myself, and I would escape.

A blast of light erupted just to the side of the door and my gaze quickly darted forward. The Hunter's cannon steamed with fresh fire.

"Not another step," she warned, speaking through a translator, her voice low and mechanical. "I'd rather she be dead then let her leave with you. Give her up or you both die."

I snarled, furious to have been given an ultimatum. But I was hopelessly outgunned, and the only thing between me and death was the Hunter's own reluctance to kill the hybrid. As soon as we were separated, she would fire.

I tried desperately to think of a way to break the stalemate in my favor.

I roared in pain as something sharp and metal jammed itself into my foot. Transfuse had plunged her prosthetic downward, and I lapsed for a moment, recoiling in pain and losing my grip.

The mutant took the opportunity to run forward, towards the Hunter. Her arms splayed wide and she gripped the Hunter by the waist, clinging tightly and erupting into sobs. The human teetered on her armored feet, put off-balance for a single moment as Transfuse latched on to her.

I quickly took the opportunity to dart out the door behind me. The barrage of cannon fire was very nearly drowned out by a horrible wailing. The Hunter tried futilely to hit me, but her shots spread far askew. Transfuse was practically screaming, hugging her tightly and shaking her, throwing off her aim. I nearly laughed. The idiot girl had just ended up saving me.

I was out the door. I ran, barely half a sector passed and I heard no footsteps behind me. I continued to run blindly, hoping to find some troops, perhaps another Unit to help me go back and retrieve my precious experiment. But there was nothing, no one, and I continued on in desperation.

It quickly became apparent that I was too late. Something vibrant and orange caught my attention from outside a porthole. A gunship clad in the same colors as the Hunter drifted by before disappearing in a warp.

I was free, I had escaped. But I quickly realized what I had just lost in the desperate attempt to save my own life;

Transfuse was gone.


	53. Last Moments of a Unit

_Author's note:_

_Hello readers. This chapter is going up a little earlier than normal. This is because it will be the last one for a while._

_Just as I did after Part 2, I will be taking a little hiatus to make progress on Part 3. I am uncertain how long it will be, likely not more than a month at most. While the next part is already partially written, a lot of work is needed before I can start posting and promising regular updates. Part 3 will follow after this chapter, and it will be the final installment in what has become the longest fanfic I have ever written._

_As always, thank you for your readership. I love hearing feedback so if you have any to share about this story, positive or negative, please leave your thoughts! The most important thing that keeps me writing is knowing that someone enjoys reading it._

_I leave you with my final log._

* * *

"Ah, Unit 215. We were just discussing you."

The Hunter had destroyed everything in his lab in a violent rage. Any data that had not already been uploaded to communal space was completely obliterated. Unit 215 had always been very sparing when it came to sharing his research with High Command. He only reported what he deemed absolutely necessary to continue drawing funds. Now that stinginess had been his undoing. With Transfuse gone, his lab destroyed, he had virtually nothing to show from the past seven years.

I could do nothing to stop her, nor even divert her attention. As his assistant, I did what I could with the limited function of the remaining terminals, and it was hardly enough to be worth mention. In the end, I was little more than an observer to the Hunter's rampage.

"Sir," 215 began his report. "You have no doubt heard of Siriacus' fate, of the Hunter's intrusion. I need to retrieve Transfuse as soon as possible, or else procure a new round of human test subjects. It is paramount that my research continue."

"I don't think that will be necessary. In fact, you can consider all your current projects discontinued as of today."

"Sir?"

I was taken aback, appalled at their decree which had come seemingly from nowhere.

"Unit 215, where were you, nine cycles ago?"

"I was..on my first research frigate. I was studying human bioweapons under your orders."

"Yes, and that frigate fell too. Do you know why?"

"I-I had thought someone released a lethal agent into the air supply. That was why we evacuated, why it had to be destroyed."

"And here you lie to us once again. Do you know the penalty for deceiving High Command?"

"Yes... Sir," he affirmed. "But why do you accuse me of such a thing? I am nothing if not loyal."

"We just received a rather interesting bliptrans. One that contains a fair bit of incomplete data from one of your old labs."

215's hand shook noticeably as it rested on the terminal.

"You were working on a strain you dubbed MRV-1. Highly lethal, very effective. Your data matches the genome and signature of the air samples brought back from the frigate."

I expected him to run, to show some sign of terror. But he stood fast, clinging to the hope that he could still persuade them they were wrong.

"That's impossible- no, it's not true! I have never heard of such an agent," he begged. "And that frigate was vaporized, incinerated to prevent human discovery. There was nothing left, how would you ever link such a thing to me?"

"We received an anonymous transmission with the encoded data. Along with the report that most of the laboratory terminals bore attempts to destroy them."

"I have been framed!" he pleaded.

"This hearing is over. You are a liar, a mass murderer, and a fool, guilty of treason. Your hiding ends today, Unit 215. You will be erased. Stand by to be reserviced."

The screen went dark and the enraged faces of High Command disappeared.

I heard the clank of latches as 215 locked down the room. They were coming for him, and he was well aware of it. I wondered briefly if I had been implicated in any way. My name was not mentioned.

How could this have happened? No one should have had access to that data. No one made it off that frigate alive except him and me.

No, I was wrong. There was a third. Suddenly it came to me, the image of that familiar armorclad human. She tore through every terminal she could find, ever sifting for information, scanning an entry with 215's name and research from a single console so carelessly left intact.

That same greedy visor had peered upon Project Transfuse. It saw his name once again. It had seen what he had done to fellow members of its species. And now it had shared the lethal data collected so long ago, and taken revenge for its kind.

_Stand by to be reserviced._

It was something no one ever wanted to hear. It was a punishment reserved for traitors too heinous to be granted the mercy of execution.

He would be a slave, his mind destroyed, brought down to the level of beasts. Any pirate would sooner die than let it happen, and 215 appeared to share that sentiment.

He unsheathed his blade and brought it to his throat. I felt the instinctive urge to step in and stop him, but to my surprise, he did so himself. He held the blade there, arm shaking, unable to continue.

He brought his other hand up to meet it, struggling to push it forward. It would not budge, he was too much of a coward to so much as draw blood.

I had seen enough. I stepped forward, into the lab. Terrified, he wheeled around, blade drawn and ready. He hissed at me and backed away.

"So, are you here to take me to them? To turn me in?" he growled.

I said nothing. I drew no weapon and merely stood in silence. I did not know what to say, how to react to what had just happened, to what was about to happen.

"Nothing to say to me? Fine."

He turned away. He took a mask and oxygen tank from the lee of the airlock and punched in a command for it to cycle.

Insane! He was running away, into space? The fool would die long before he got any meaningful distance away. Was he even fit for command anymore? Under the pressure of imminent death, it seemed that 215's sanity had collapsed.

So I rushed forward, and held him back. I put him in a hold beneath his shoulders and held my hands against his spine, refusing to let him escape.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU INSOLENT LITTLE BASTARD?!" he roared. " LET ME GO!"

"You will freeze and suffocate. There is nowhere to go once you are out there, do you understand that?"

He shook his head furiously, wrestling to get away. The airlock doors closed automatically and began another cycle. He roared in fury.

"I don't care, _let me go_. That is an ORDER."

For the first time, I ignored him.

If he was indeed to be reserviced, his body would at least remain intact. He created Transfuse using his own DNA, and if we were to have any hope of recovering her, I needed him alive and accessible. There was no way to do that if his body was lost to space. Moreover, if the process of reservicing could somehow be reversed…

I very much doubted his memories could be restored. But pirates were grown from scratch all the time, surely restoring higher brain functions was not impossible.

He screamed and screamed, writhing in my hold. His movements forced my hand to put a huge amount of pressure on the back of his neck, and he quickly recoiled in pain.

"215, calm yourself. Your death will solve nothing. Once you are reserviced, I will restore you," I said, though it was more a manipulation than a genuine promise. "We need this cure. Would you doom your brethren to a slavery of their own, beneath phazon?"

"You will restore me?" he sneered. "_You? _Don't make me laugh. I will not live out the rest of my life as a meager-brained slave on some asinine whim that I will be whole again. Let me _go_, NOW."

I refused. He was being unthinking, selfish. I would not let his wishes get in the way of progress for our species. I would not let him die.

I heard footsteps outside, I heard speaking. The door alerted me that someone was trying to bypass the locks. Something slammed against the door, the metal began to singe.

"LET ME GO!" 215 screamed.

A clang filled the room, the mechanical latch had broken. The door was torn open by three separate sets of hands.

"387, LET ME **GO**," he writhed and roared. His breath raced in and out of his mouth as he hyperventilated in panic. His eyes were dark and bloodshot, focusing six terrified stares on the security officers coming into the room, armed to the bone.

Finally, I obliged, and let him go. He bolted towards the airlock, desperately trying to pry it open. Two armed guards approached him. He turned and roared, blade drawn.

"Get away from me. GET AWAY FROM ME!" he screamed. He threw himself at the nearest officer and was almost instantly subdued. They were soldiers, they were larger-built, more heavily armed. The struggle was hopeless.

The guard grabbed him by the throat and tore his blade-bearing sidearm from his body. He screamed in pain, his arm bloodied by the process.

I watched, helpless, as he was dragged away. The officers said nothing to me.

I followed them. I was not the only one. Reservicing was akin to execution, though a far worse fate to experience. But it was bloody, and just like an execution, it drew a crowd. Audience was encouraged, for the guilty would set an example for them.

215 did not go with dignity. He screamed and roared, shouting out pleadings, denials and threats. All went unheeded.

Finally we arrived at his destination. He was thrown forcefully into the stasis chamber that would become his tomb. The glass shut, sealing him in. His hands beat desperately against it.

He screamed as a multitude of wires unravelled from the ceiling of his prison, stabbing into his skull and spine. Blood trailed down his head and his screaming stopped abruptly as the wires made contact with his brain. He writhed as they pulled him upwards, away from the floor. Such roughness was unnecessary, rather it was intended to make the process more painful.

His eyes glazed and became dull as any semblance of personality was erased from his mind. His limbs shook and began to slacken. The pirates around me cackled and roared, jeering as my Superior was erased from the ranks.

Finally he stopped moving. The chamber filled with fluid, looking nothing so much like an ordinary birthing tank.

Everything was gone. 215 had become a blank slate, a shell awaiting reprogramming. It was strange, that I felt disappointed, even saddened by the loss of a superior. His idealistic defiance towards phazon research was not shared by any other, and his vital work to combat it would never see the light of day without him.

I alone would need to fix that.


	54. P3: Chapter 1 - Departure

_Author's note: _

_Hello again readers. I apologize for the long absence. _Soul _is back, and you can expect bi-weekly updates as before._

_Thanks for sticking with us this long. I hope you enjoy the third and final part!_

* * *

He took in his first breath of air, bitter and metallic. The smell was familiar, and it invigorated him.

Everything seemed off. Colors were not what they were supposed to be. He could only look in one direction, and could not see heat. His sense of perception felt unwhole, but it did not matter. He was alive again.

"I suppose you made good on your promise to restore me. Even so-

He reared back his rifle-arm and slammed it into the side of 387's head. The blow sent the pirate to the ground, he clattered down the ramp.

"You disobeyed an order. Several times, in fact. Consider this your greatly lessened punishment."

387 picked himself off the ground. His jaw cracked back into place as he turned to face his former superior. His throat rumbled with a vicious growl.

He suppressed the instinct to draw his blade and punish the insolent creature. He had come too far, invested far too much in retrieving 215 to let his anger waste it all.

"Strike me again and your blood will spill from the inside out," he hissed.

215's gaze widened in shock, mandibles quivering in repressed anger. "What did you say?"

A voice from behind him caught 215 off-guard, and he wheeled around to find himself staring down the edge of a blade.

"You think you are in command? You think these troops will obey you? They answer to me, as do you. Adapt to that or you will work starving from a prison cell."

215 held back the urge to snarl. The trooper's blade hovered above his matted forehead, filling the air with the scent of boiling blood. He was enraged, but he was no fool.

Reluctantly, he turned his eyes to the floor and took to his knee. He felt the blade withdraw, and heard the sound of 387's approaching footsteps. He braced himself for a punishing blow, but to his surprise, the pirate passed right by him.

The pirate stood, feeling humiliated and weak. But he supposed it was to be expected that the chain of command had shifted since his last time within their ranks. He had control over his own body, and for now, that was enough for him.

* * *

Adelaide had hidden himself in a crevice. He feared pursuit, but the pirates seemed too distracted to pay him notice. They boarded their ship without so much as a glance in his direction.

The ATC was preparing to leave. The human looked around, futilely seeking an alternative. There were no allies left to call upon, and his communications still blared with static at every attempt to use them. There was only one way out of the trench, and for all its risks it was better than the certainty of death.

Adelaide's visor sealed around his face, conserving precious oxygen. The marine ran towards the retreating ship and latched on to its side, clamping a single hand around a thick metal bar. Within moments the engines fired, and it accelerated upwards.

Adelaide nearly screamed as the strain against his arm threatened to separate it. He brought his rifle up to the bar in a desperate attempt to gain more leverage. But it was useless, he was slipping. They were high in the air now, a fall would spell his end.

He suddenly felt an intense heat against his chest. In his strain, he had clenched his fingers and held a shot of charged plasma against it. The armor was warped from where the heat had melted it, and suddenly the marine formed an idea. He brought his chest up against the ship's side and held his rifle between the two grains of metal. The plasma began to melt his armor. He widened the radius, watching as the sleek Federation design turned to liquid. Finally, he withdrew. Powerful torrents of wind continued to wash over him. The metal cooled and hardened, welding him and the ATC together.

The strain against his arm lessened at last. His strength had given out, his muscles were reeling, torn and in flames. The ship rocketed upwards through every sphere. The air began to dissipate, the bloodshot skies of Urtraghus slowly giving way to space.

Adelaide felt a sudden surge of nausea as he became weightless. As soon as his head cleared, he suddenly remembered the reason he had endured the journey.

"Hello? Hello? Can anyone hear me? I need, I need help please anyone," he nearly gagged with his words, shaking his head as though to free himself from the vertigo.

"_Hello? Who is this, what's your status?"_

"Oh thank god," Adelaide nearly cried. "I-I'm on a pirate ATC, I don't know where it's headed or where we are but, just zero in on my coordinates, I need a- hello?"

Static blared in his ears.

"Fuck! NO! Hello? _Hello?_" Adelaide began to panic. His vision began to go white, space transforming into an incomprehensible mash of blinding light. The only thing he could still see, he realized, was himself, and the ship. They had entered a warp.

"No, no no no," he whimpered. This wasn't right, this type of ship wasn't supposed to warp. Adelaide did not know where he was going, or how long the journey would last, and he could do nothing but wait and stare at a blank, distorted world.

* * *

ATCs were hardly designed to accommodate long journeys. There was little room to move, any additional space modified to store fuel or rations. 215 realized his comrades were likely quite desperate for better vessels.

At the very least, the journey gave the pirate time to acclimate. He learned what 387 had done in his absence, what he himself had done. All this time, he had been active and alive. Memories existed for nearly every year of his slumber. He had spent decades on an alien world, living among another race. He had learned their language, even their technology, and found himself able to recall the schematics of machines far beyond his own understanding.

He had fought alongside the Federation, spilled pirate blood. Perhaps even most disturbing, formed some sense of closeness with humans.

With every attempt to recall, he felt disgusted. A voice rose in his head, something that altered his mood and demeanor. Every memory created a completely foreign mental state. The way it affected his mind made him viciously uncomfortable, and he quickly tried to forget, to ignore.

No, those memories were not a part of him. They belonged to the other, the _slave_ that came after him. The alien part of his mind that festered within him like a tumor.

387 had silenced it, and he was grateful for that. It was a bit sickening to know his creations ran through his blood, capable of killing him at any given moment, even if he doubted 387 had the gall to do such a thing.

Equally sickening were the rations he was given. 215 became violently ill with every meal. He eventually had to make do with tasteless supplements, created by the Federation for pirate prisoners. 387 had observed their consumption,while 215 was within human ranks, and replicated their make-up.

387 was prepared, and he was cunning. He had managed to escape both death and infection, and had devised a way to reverse the greatest punishment High Command could offer. 215 had to respect that much about him.

Together they conspired on their research, and prepared to pick up precisely where they had left off many years ago.


	55. P3: Chapter 2 - Intruder

Five days passed, and they at last arrived at their destination. A small frigate, in dire need of upgrades, stationed among a tiny fleet of cruisers. It was one of only two left belonging to the uninfected. The other was stationed far away, a backup rendezvous.

The ATC boarded, and the doors opened with a suctioned creak. 215 was eager to move, to find a lab. Not only to begin his work but to satiate his desperate curiosity for how he had changed.

387 hesitated, lingering at the transport and staring at its side. A tiny lump of silver stood out against the dingy brown. Puddles of melted metal dotted the surface and glinted in the red light of the ship.

He quickly moved on, and led 215 into the frigate.

* * *

The pirate rid himself of his Federation garb. He felt immediately repulsed by what was underneath. What greeted him was alien, tufts of fur covered his chest and his prosthetic arm clinked with unknown metals. His exoskeleton was covered in putrid serrations. It was as though someone had peeled away his very flesh, and he was forced to stare at his own inner workings, terrified by the starkness of something he was never meant to see.

He quickly demanded new armor, and felt his disgust somewhat repressed once he could not see his body. He didn't have time to worry about something so superficial, he told himself. _I function, I breathe, therefore I will work._

He quickly set himself to doing so. The plan was simple; attempt to locate Transfuse, and if this could not be done, recreate her.

The ordeal of capturing humans was a more lethal risk than ever. The mission would send a group of pirates into Federation space, and many would not return. The tiny number of pirates left made every single one valuable. Moreover, they could not risk exposing their base to the Federation.

Retrieving Transfuse was far preferable, if she was even still alive. Though even if she had expired, her body might still be intact.

215 had created Transfuse using his own DNA. She carried with her his genetic signature. All he needed to do was extract it from himself, and they would scan every galactic quarter until they found a match.

The task turned out to be far more difficult than he'd envisioned. He knew he had been modified, but he had not known the true extent of it. The precision and eerily-natural finesse of his hybridization was something far more advanced than anything Science Team could manage, and it only made his work more difficult.

He ran tests on various samples of his own tissue. He was a mosaic, with different cells having vastly different configurations and levels of alien DNA. His flesh crawled with the discovery that the cells in the budding winglets on his back were haploid.

215 wanted to find Transfuse now more than ever, simply to finish what he needed as quickly as possible. With that out of the way, he could have 387 try to somewhat restore him. To remove the cumbersome antennae that had sprouted from his face and sever the disgusting alien organs that were growing on his back. And most of all restore his teeth, his heat pits, his pirate stomach. He longed so desperately for the taste of meat.

Despite his mutations, 215 was able to piece together his former genome. Most of it was largely intact, though methylated and inactive, buried beneath foreign genes.

Within four days, he was finished. He headed towards a terminal and encoded his genetic signature- Transfuse's genetic signature, preparing it to be written into the memory of a thousand search drones.

215 notified 387 of his completion. It was strange, reporting to him now. He supposed he would never fully get used to it.

The search drones were ready. It was a momentous occasion, the first sign of true progress in this endeavor since all of their research had gone up in smoke. 387 wanted to oversee the launch personally, and summoned 215 to follow him into the lower levels of the ship.

215 left the terminal and headed towards the door. He brimmed with excitement, the mere thought of finally being reunited with his precious experiment almost too much to bear. So much had he invested, so much had he lost. To hold the cure in his hands once more…

He stopped suddenly in his tracks. He looked up. He could sense something that he could not fully explain. He felt fear, hunger and desperation, yet they were not his own. He tore through the slave's memories, searching for an explanation.

He realized it was some sort of sixth sense the hybrid possessed, to feel the presence of another mind. 215 had not noticed it until now, but he quickly realized what it meant.

He looked around the lab. By all appearances, it was empty, but 215 knew that to be a lie. Something was close, something that had previously not been within his field of perception.

"I know you're here," he smiled. "You followed me, didn't you, human? It's been nine days. Are you finally starved to the point of suicide?" He quietly retrieved a firearm and locked it into place. "I'll gladly grant you that liberty." He looked around again, head twitching from side to side. "COME OUT!"

This alien sense could only do so much. 215 was inexperienced with it, and moreover it felt vilely unnatural to use it. Though it had alerted him to the intruder's presence, he could not pinpoint the human's location with it.

The human did his best to remain still. His breath had quickened to a panic as he sat petrified in the vent. He looked on in relief as the pirate withdrew his weapon and appeared to go back to his business. Perhaps he had decided he was mistaken.

But he quickly realized what 215 was doing as he punched in a command to several laboratory consoles. The room became quieter as vents ceased blowing, as water stopped flowing through pipes and modems stopped humming. 215 was turning off anything that made any sort of noise.

The human clasped a hand over his mouth, trying in vain to stifle his breathing. Sweat began to drip down his face as he watched the pirate nervously through the grate.

215 looked up once more. The lab was dead silent, but his keen ears could still hear one thing. So faint and subtle that most would easily overlook it, but it was there.

He stepped outside of view. The human listened intently for footsteps, but his own breath took up most of his attention. The scientist was surprisingly light-footed and for a moment, the human assumed he had stopped moving.

He looked out once more.

A deafening crash echoed through Adelaide's ears as a claw burst through the vent and grabbed his leg. He brought his empty rifle down upon it, hearing the satisfying crack of exoskeleton. 215 roared in pain as the human desperately tried to crawl away. The vent was too small to accommodate a pirate, and Adelaide hoped if he went far enough that he would escape.

An energy blade seared through the metal and expanded the vent entrance. 215 snarled. He grabbed at the human with his prosthetic hand, pulling him out before he had time to react. The pirate whipped his former comrade against the opposite wall.

"I'm going to enjoy this," he smirked, blade drawn. It was too easy, really. The human's eyes were sunken and tired beneath his visor, his face pale and bony. He was barely moving, already out of breath and lacking the energy to even stand. Breaking the pirate's hand had taken up the last of his strength, and he could offer no resistance as he was plucked by his neck and forced to stare down the edge of a blade.

"Go ahead," he murmured. "With me gone, the Federation will have no reason to hold their fire."

The pirate stopped.

"You summoned the Federation here?!" he hissed, filled with anger and fear.

Adelaide smirked. "That's right, what are you gonna do about it?"

The scientist grimaced and brought the human down to eye level.

"How long until they arrive?"

Adelaide grinned, letting out a weak laugh pocked by a cough. "I don't know, I can't keep track of time."


	56. P3: Chapter 3 - Retrieval

215 threw the human to the ground, enraged.

They needed to move, they needed to get out of here. This was a single frigate, up against what could be the full brunt of the Federation army. The humans knew they were nearly all that was left of the pirates, and they would spare no expense eradicating them.

As much as 215 wanted to tear the insolent human's throat out, he knew his comrades would come for him. They would not blindly fire so long as they knew one of their own was salvageable. He was valuable as a hostage.

387- no, the bridge, the pilots. He needed to warn them. Flee, jettison the human before the Federation had time to follow.

But what if he had hidden something on the ship? Something that allowed them to be tracked even in his absence?

The human started laughing. His visor opened.

"_Stevens, we just came out of warp. Hang in there a little while longer. ETA is three minutes,"_ it echoed from within his helmet.

"No," 215 couldn't believe it.

His fury overwhelmed him. Eyes burning with hatred, he reached back towards the human who dared to mock him. He drew his blade and drove it straight through his armored shoulder. The human's laughs quickly turned to painful cries.

"I'm not just going to kill you," he hissed. "I'm going to tear off each and every one of your limbs. I'm going to carve your head into meat for my experiments, and you will _wish_ you were dead."

"You can do whatever the hell you want," the human muttered, gasping in pain as the pirate twisted his blade. He grit his teeth and bit down hard, forcing a smirk. "You and your entire species are still gonna get blown to kingdom come."

Adelaide screamed as the pirate drove his blade up through his shoulder. His arm went limp at his side. He stared up as his former comrade reared up his blade once more. His strike was aimed straight at his skull, and the human desperately covered his face with his one good arm as the blade plunged downward.

* * *

"What?"

Reluctantly Adelaide peered out from between his fingers. 215's blade had been driven straight into the floor. The pirate stared at it, eyes wide, dumbfounded by what had just happened.

_I missed?_

It wasn't an accident. He had done this deliberately, somehow. But why?

215 did not have much time to think about what had happened when the ship's alarms began to blare. It lurched forward as something impacted it.

It was too late. The human had manipulated him, stalling for time. In his anger 215 had failed to deliver a warning.

They were here.

"No, no no _NO,_" 215 roared. Forget the human, he told himself, he needed to get out of here. He ran for the door. He stopped as it slid open, eyes going wide. He heard the sound of footsteps. Light, much lighter than pirates, metallic, and in a horde.

He backed away. A resounding _boom_ echoed from behind him as his lab was blasted open.

Everywhere. They were _everywhere_, flooding into the frigate like a viral load in a bloodstream. They came in through the lab entrance, and in from the hole they had blasted in his ship. Before 215 even knew what was happening, four dozen rifles pointed straight at his heart.

"Hands up, on your knees," one of them barked at him. They intended to take him alive?

215 was surrounded. He had little choice but to surrender. Growling, he got on his knees, and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

He did not want to be at the Federation's mercy. The slave had been their ally. Perhaps if he could fool them into thinking he was a victim, they would trust him. 215 swallowed his discomfort and sank deep into his memories, searching for a response. Faintly, he could hear it, that damned voice. That of the slave, it wanted to speak. In his desperation, 215 allowed it control, eager to win the Federation's amnesty.

"Kah.. k-kuh," the voice began to stutter, timid and afraid. Its thoughts lapsed and jittered as though incomplete.

"K-ki-KILL ME! KILL HIM! PLEASE SHOOT ME, SHOOT HIM!" it suddenly screamed.

215 quickly seized control back. His head shook violently. "Stupid little _bastard,"_ he hissed.

"Give it up, pirate. We know what you are. Where's your commanding officer?"

"I answer to _no one_."

He roared in pain as a blur of blinding cyan grazed his stomach. It blazed right through his armor and left a searing wound in its wake. He toppled over in agony and clutched at his smoking flesh.

"I said where is he?"

"Whoa whoa whoa, easy! What the fuck? 'Admiral told us not to hurt him if we didn't have to."

"He ain't cooperating, so I had to."

"Knock it off Malenko," the marine approached the wounded pirate and raised his own weapon.

"We know there's at least one pirate above you, he's the one that brought you here. Where is he?"

215 groaned. His senses were reeling. This was insane, how had he been taken down so easily?

_Phazon_. He reminded himself. _The brutes have phazon._

He felt the cold touch of steel beneath his mandibles as one of the marines raised him to eye level. The human glared at him through a pale visor.

"Well?"

A potential blast of heated phazon was mere inches from his throat. 215 had little choice but to comply.

"You said it yourself," he spat. "He's in command. Why don't you check the bridge you sniveling clod."

The marine motioned with his hand. A small troupe left the lab and headed for the bridge.

It was a lie, naturally. 215 knew they would not find him there.

* * *

387 could hear what was happening up above. He could see through the portholes the fleet of Federation ships that had appeared out of warp.

He grit his teeth as a slew of reports flashed across the terminals, as the sound of rapid plasma fire echoed from the upper levels.

Why had they infiltrated the ship? Why did they not simply fire and destroy it? Something was wrong, this was not the usual strategy.

A flood of glinting lights rushed from beneath the ship and scattered out in space. 387 had unleashed the search drones. The tiny machines disappeared into warps as they spread themselves across the galaxy. But their findings would matter little if their masters were killed or captured.

His forces here did not have the firepower to take down a fleet of this size. The Federation knew this, and at whatever point they felt they had taken all they needed from this ship, they would destroy it.

He wondered briefly if 215 had been captured or killed, but he could not waste time looking for him. 387 had no delusions. He quickly sent out the order to evacuate, to abandon all posts and head to the escape pods, to head to their one remaining waypoint. All that mattered was saving as many pirates as he could.

* * *

The cold tip of a rifle rammed itself into 215's spine. Whenever he hesitated even slightly, it would force him forward. Hardlight bound his wrists and a slew of Federation troopers blocked his way from both the front and back.

They were like insects. The sheer number of them in a swarm was foul, and 215 wished he was adequately armed to squash them.

The one called Adelaide was just a few rows in front of him. He could barely walk, and relied on the trooper next to him to support his limping gait. The gash in his shoulder was leaving a trail of blood behind him.

215 snarled. It was all his fault. He should have finished him off when he had the chance. Why? Why didn't he? His blade had been drawn, and they had been alone. It was the slave's fault. That cowardly, alien little tumor in his brain, it had skewed his aim.

They were nearing the edge of the ship. 215 could see the man-made hole where the Federation vessel had boarded. And now he was being led onto it. To return to the humans, to submission, interrogation and torture. Perhaps even to return to his life of dormancy beneath his weaker half.

"_NO,"_ he bellowed. He couldn't go back, not ever again. He became frantic, his eyes locked on the pathetic limping human in front of him. He roared, he reared backward and threw the rifle against his spine askew. He rushed forward, his mandibles dangling and dripping with drool, aimed straight at the neck of that sniveling trooper.

He felt a weight pile onto his back, a blunt force against his skull. One of the troopers had tackled him. He shook vigorously to throw him off, but without the use of his hands he could do little more than struggle. Another soldier joined him, jumping up to his shoulder and dragging him down, a third kicked against his legs and set him off-balance. In the end 215's efforts were useless, and he fell hard against the floor.

His head ached with the repeated blows. He couldn't find the composure to stand, but the floor moved beneath him nonetheless; he was being dragged. All he could do was snarl and scream silently to himself in denial as the silvery world of a Federation ship took shape around him.


	57. P3: Chapter 4 - Recovery

He watched through a porthole as the skirmish continued without him. Escape pods roared from their ports, only to be struck down immediately after. To 215's surprise, the frigate was not being destroyed. As the last human ship was cleared, a new attack commenced. Maroon pods erupted from the towering Federation ships and stabbed straight into the hull of his frigate. They were eerily organic in nature, and glowed a luminous blue. 215 recognized it all too well. As soon as the pods began invading the frigate, the Federation stopped shooting down escape pods.

It took the pirate only moments to piece together the vile strategy. He roared with indignant rage. He fought furiously against his shackles to no effect, his handlers had latched them to some sort of vice in the ship's wall. 215 was helpless, and could do little else but roar and scream as he watched everything he had fought for fall apart.

* * *

His pallet ached with the touch of the first food he'd eaten in more than a week. But it was easy to ignore, the experience of simply eating _something_ filled him with more joy than he could bear. His eyes watered with the sheer overwhelmingness of it all. He'd never tasted anything so incredible before, everything was amazing right down to the bread and water.

Adelaide shoved everything into his mouth so quickly that he barely had time to chew. The nurse stood at the door, brows raised in shock.

His head hit the pillow as his chest rose and fell rapidly. He hadn't taken a single breath since he started eating.

"More, please I need more," he panted.

"Sorry, not yet. Can't give you more than you can handle."

Adelaide glared at the nurse. He felt like he hated him more than anyone in the world right now. He was about to voice his objection when he felt a horrible pain in his stomach. Everything had gone down far too fast and his body was struggling to keep up.

"Eugh," he groaned. His hand clasped around a plastic switch and he pressed it. A numbing sensation flooded his abdomen, and the pain in his stomach stopped.

Adelaide sighed, his eyes drifted to the ceiling. He still couldn't believe he was here, that he was safe. He had truly lost track of the days during his time aboard the pirate vessel. The only thing that kept him sane was the occasional exchange of words with troopers on the comm system. They reminded him that help was coming, that humans still existed and that he was not alone. And all the while he sat terrified that his small whispers would be heard, that he would be caught.

He had licked grimy condensation from the edges of the vents just to keep from dying of thirst. It was horrible and metallic, but it sustained him. He was almost surprised it didn't kill him first.

His shoulder ached, but the morphine did wonders to make him forget that fact. It had been patched, and the damage wasn't even enough to require major surgery. The pirate had had him at his mercy, and yet he had done so little. It perplexed him. Even when he had his blade dug into his shoulder, the wounds were mercifully minor. And that point-blank stab that had been aimed at his skull had missed completely.

Adelaide knew the culprit. It was obvious to him what had happened. Somehow, beneath everything, his last squadmate was alive. It made the marine smile, knowing he'd stood up for him. It was almost more than he deserved after everything he had put him through.

The marine asked constantly for updates, and they came in slowly. 215's whereabouts were not classified, as they would normally be with a prisoner of war. Adelaide was told he had been moved from the Olympus, onto a colonized planet where that specialty medic resided. He wondered if his recovery was faring as well as his.

* * *

"215, right? Do you remember me?"

The pirate hissed. "Why would I, you worms all look the same to me."

"Oh good, it is you," the doctor suddenly reeled back an arm and drove it straight into the pirate's nose. He roared in fury, cringing his nares and shaking his head, disoriented by the blow.

"Oi, doc, what the hell?" an assistant inquired.

Ashwitt shook his hand in the air, it felt as if he'd just punched a slab of wood. "Sorry, sorry, I've just, wow I've wanted to do that for a long time." He laughed. "Oh and it gets better. See, I'm under orders to get rid of you, to get our soldier back."

215 snarled. "I'll see to it that we both die first."

"No, you're going to live, 215," Ashwitt said ecstatically. "Just like you did before, you know, when you weren't in control. See, you're _my _test subject now." The medic giggled as the pirate reacted violently to his every word. He took pleasure in watching him squirm, the pirate who had mutilated him all those years ago, now his prisoner and test subject. He wasn't quite sure how he was going to subdue him without killing him. He was not sure that the body's former inhabitant could be salvaged at all, but Ashwitt was determined to try.

"Nighty night. I hope you have a good sleep," the doctor grinned.

* * *

How could he have been so careless? 387 had lost his partner yet again. He could only fathom what was being done to 215 in the hands of the Federation.

He pondered the idea of ending his life, just as he had done to 659. It was certainly something he could do, once he reached the waypoint. As it was now, the slow-moving escape pod had no way to do much of anything.

They would no doubt interrogate him, but what could he tell them? 215 did not know their current location nor the location of Transfuse. He could tell them what he had been working on, but it was no different than anything he had already divulged in his very first interrogation. The Federation already knew why 387 had brought him back, they knew what the uninfected were working on.

No, killing him was pointless. At the very least, 387 had succeeded in sending out the search drones, encoded with 215's genetic signature. They had scattered just before he had given the order to the frigate to self-destruct. Now they scanned every quadrant of the galaxy in search of a matching code.

215 may have been recaptured, but he had completed his task. But what would happen when they did find Transfuse? 387 was not sure he had the skill with which to extract a vaccine from her. Moreover, how would they retrieve her? What if she were in Federation space?

He would need to wait before he could even see what they had found. At the very least, the journey towards the final haven granted him patience. Time to think, to allow the search drones to do their work, and to plan what to do when they finally succeeded.

* * *

_Where am I?_

With great effort, he forced his eyes open. He winced with each strained blink as his pupils refused to focus. Everything was hazed and he could not make anything out.

_What's happening?_

There was a sour, chemical scent in the air, it was the only thing he could really sense. He was only vaguely aware of his sense of touch. He couldn't hear anything at all. He tried to get up, to move even a single finger, but found his body would not respond.

There was a pressure against his throat, it was impossible to swallow. He suddenly realized that he was not breathing. He tried to take in air and nearly choked. His gag reflex was triggered time and time again, fruitless in its effort to clear the obstruction.

Slowly, colors began to materialize. Blue, he saw blue; blue and silver. They were familiar, yet he couldn't quite pinpoint why.

Something grey and clear trailed down his chest. Its end was beneath his head, where he could not see. He realized it was what was choking him. It had been stuck down his throat, deep inside him. He wanted desperately to rip it out.

Yet he was paralyzed, helpless to do anything more than blink and move his eyes. His body was useless, his senses, save for smell and rudimentary sight, had failed him. Even his memory, he found, was impossible to access.

_Focus_. He told himself. _What was the last thing that happened?_

Nothing. He could remember nothing.

Suddenly he felt something. Not physically, but mentally, the presence of another being. He was acutely aware that there was another mind in the room, and it filled him with happiness to sense something so keenly.

Blurry movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. He just barely managed to nudge his head in its direction. It was a person, a human. Its face was moving.

_Human…_

The concept was familiar. The last human he had seen… he was called Adelaide. Yes, Adelaide, he was a marine, a soldier for the Federation. His sister's name had been Shendra. She had died on the pirate homeworld just before…

_Kayleer. My name is Kayleer. You are Ashwitt._

"Hey, good to see you conscious. A lot seemed to stop working when we started the injections. Can you hear me right now? Blink twice if you can."

The pirate did not respond.

"Right then… Well it makes sense that your eyes were the first thing to start working." The medic pondered the idea of explaining the patient's condition to him, but quickly realized his sense of awareness was just an illusion. He could see, smell, maybe, but likely not anything else. Talking to him would be useless. A few more days, then he would check again.

The blurred yet familiar figure of the medic faded from Kayleer's sight. He was left to his thoughts, locked in a vacant stare towards the ceiling.


	58. P3: Chapter 5 - Cripple

The pirate's senses slowly began to return to him. Feeling began to flood back into his body, and Kayleer almost wished it hadn't. Everything inside him ached, particularly his head, and it only fueled the already profound feeling of nausea. His throat and chest were inflamed. Air ran automatically through them, forcing his lungs to expand and contract against his will.

He began to hear things once more, though muffled and quiet. Often someone would enter the room, and he would look off to the opposite side, unable to tell where the noise had come from.

Kayleer managed to twitch a finger now and again, to flex a muscle. His prosthetic was the first thing to recover, so he garnered his focus on it. First the fingers, then the wrist, as days passed he gained more and more control over it. Slowly he felt his will exerted on everything below the shoulder.

He moved it to his face, he knew what he wanted to do. His throat was on fire and he wanted the wretched piece of plastic that was lodged in it to be gone.

His fingers grasped weakly around the tube. Their movements were desynced, and it took him a while to get all three gripping at once. Finally he felt he had a hold of it, and pulled roughly forward.

He retched as he felt it slither up his throat. A sticky, reddish fluid came with it as he gagged. His airway finally free, he tried to breathe, but a thin gasp was all he could manage. Something else was preventing him from drawing breath.

Kayleer quickly realized his mistake. The tube had been the only thing allowing him to breathe. He was clearly incapable of it himself.

A harsh, repetitive noise blared in the background, and the pirate became aware of two people around him.

"Idiot, what did you do?!"

He clutched at his throat, beginning to suffocate. The senses he had spent so long trying to recover began to fade once again. His hand was pushed away by another, and he felt that wretched tube force its way back down his throat.

The horrid ache in his chest returned, but the feeling of faintness brought on from a lack of oxygen faded as air forced its way into his lungs once more.

A human sighed.

"Well, I guess you can move again, that's good," Ashwitt wiped his forehead. "Can you hear, Kayleer? Give me some sort of sign if you can."

For the first time since he could remember, the pirate heard a voice he could understand. He nodded weakly, unable to give a vocal answer.

"Good, good," the medic replied nervously. "I-I know it probably goes without saying but, please don't touch that thing."

The pirate nodded once more, wincing at the stubborn realization that he was stuck with this thing attached to him. It hurt, it felt viciously wrong, and it was a fight against raw instinct to not rip it out at the nearest opportunity.

"Are you, uh, aware enough to listen to a briefing on your medical situation?"

A moment's pause, and he gave his affirmation.

* * *

387 watched reads flash across a screen. Tens of thousands of them, tiny little warp-capable robots. Their movements were too many to process, but as soon as one found a match he would be alerted. All that was left to do was wait.

Days passed. He waited. The first signal at last bounced back, only for 387 to realize it was from the very same location as his nanites. Redundant information which he did not need.

387 was growing impatient. Time was vital, and every moment wasted was more time given to the Federation to find them. He had already seen what they planned to do once they did.

They had filled his previous frigate with some horrid new phazon-based bioweapon. The humans had no doubt seen the result of corruption on the Homeworld. Now they were using it as a weapon.

The pirate snarled. The Federation had pieced together something more powerful than he could have ever expected. They were no longer using phazon as a mere fuel, they were using it to infect them. To speed up the process that he and 215 had fought so desperately to halt.

Hundreds of pirates had fallen victim to their treachery. Some made it to the escape pods before they succumbed, before they lost their minds. Their irradiated signals were picked up, and the bulk of them were shot down before they ever reached the rendezvous. Those that did were incinerated, and the pod bay was quarantined.

Their numbers had dwindled even further from that single attack. There was no way to procure more soldiers, more help. Every birthing plant had long-ago been corrupted, and some were under Federation control. To even attempt to approach them was suicide.

387 wondered if it had even been worth it to retrieve 215, after it ultimately led to their exposure. What would happen when they did find Transfuse? 387 was not sure he had the skill with which to extract a vaccine from her. Moreover, how would they retrieve her? What if she were in Federation space?

An automated sound drew 387's focus back to the terminal. The drones had found something. It was a new signal, far away from 215's. 387's eyes widened. This had to be it, it was her.

He swiftly took control of the drone. He peered through its eyes and controlled it manually, granting it more precision. It had locked on to something spaceborne, a ship. Bulky and patched with a hundred repair jobs. It did not look to be of Federation origin.

It had seen repairs, surely a record of it must exist somewhere, some shipyard, some mechanic. Who did it belong to? Transfuse's signal was emanating from within it, but he could not be certain that she was alone.

The drone circled around the idling gunship, collecting every scrap of data that it could. 387 tore through it, cross-examining everything. At last he came upon a name, an identification. He smirked with the discovery than the ship was hers, that she was its pilot. She had come up with a new name for herself, and made a living offering herself as a gun for hire.

Mercenary, bounty hunter, 387 smiled. He could use this to his advantage.

* * *

Ashwitt had slaved for months. He had found it a welcome departure from his more recent work. In his efforts, he had isolated a chemical used in pirate stasis tubes, and toyed with different dosages on his subject. Kayleer was not purely a pirate, and it was the only grace that allowed his methods to work.

The chemicals completely suppressed the pirate portion of his mind. Kayleer had never realized quite how much he had relied on it. His two halves had been more integrated than he'd previously thought, and even though the drugs successfully silenced 215, they came with many side effects.

His vision was poor and unfocused. He could no longer see things at a distance as anything more than a blur. He had been almost completely paralyzed, and had to relearn every movement from scratch. His dexterity suffered greatly as a result, robbing the soldier of his combat ability. He was no longer useful on the warfront.

He only had control of a fraction of his muscles. His legs were too weak to support him anymore, and he was forced to take on crutches. They were braced to his arms, his fingers around a handle. Moving with them was cumbersome, but the alternative was falling facedown to the floor.

He couldn't breathe on his own anymore. That wretched tube was the only thing allowing him to do so, and he could never take it out. A breathing mask was tethered to his muzzle, keeping it in place and forcing air in and out of his body. He lacked even the strength to attempt to tear it off.

He wondered if he should simply give up and go back to Aether. Surely U-Lir could devise something to cure him, to undo the damage that had been done. Anything would be better than how he was now.

Chemicals pumped through his veins, injected through the same apparatus that controlled his breathing. A life-support system was tied to his back, keeping 215 suppressed, keeping him alive. The dosage would run out in a few days, and would need to be refilled. Every week, for the rest of his life.

No, there had to be a better way. Kayleer was grateful for Ashwitt's help, but he knew his solution was merely the result of primitive human science. He was frustrated with his debilitation. He missed walking, he missed _breathing_. He missed fighting. What good was he if he could not do the only thing he left Aether for?

He looked out at the blue, empty sky of Vaeres. It was a colony planet, nestled in the heart of Federation space. Its cities were vast and filled with people. He could see them from his window. Kayleer wondered if it would improve his mood at all to join them. It might, or it might only make it worse. He didn't trust them or his current state enough to try.

He closed his eyes, one of the few things he could still do. He needed to relax, to think things through. He promised himself he would get better. He would contact Aether, arrange a passage home, everything would be better soon…

A sudden blast of noise startled the pirate from his thoughts. A torrent of air threw him against the wall as rubble from the ceiling rained down upon him. It took him a moment to recover from the blow. He pushed a chunk of plaster from his body with the edge of his crutch and looked upward. A hole had been blasted right through the hospital room above him, along with the roof on the top floor. The sleek silver hull of a gunship floated just above the hole, smoke wafting up from its cannons.


	59. P3: Chapter 6 - Kidnapper

_Author's note: Hello everyone, I've been on a lengthy hiatus since August of last year. I won't go into much detail about why, since this is a fanfic and not a journal, but feel free to follow or message me on other sites(such as dA/tumblr) if you're curious about my activity elsewhere. I've been working on the final year of my degree and have begun to write more original fiction, but I promised myself I would finish this story since it has played a major role in my start and growth as a writer. _

_I hope at least a few of_ Soul_'s followers still have an interest in the story. I will resume regular updates, so expect between 2-4 chapters per month. Hope you've all been well. As always, feedback and criticism is appreciated. Enjoy!_

* * *

A dark maroon figure lunged forth from the bottom of the ship. With a deafening crash it landed on in the center of Kayleer's room.

The crippled pirate shuddered, eyes glued on the intruder. It had made a crater in the floor, now shaking the debris from its silvery legs. Its armor resembled that of a pirate, as did its shape, though it was deviant enough to resist association. Its helmet looked vastly different from anything he'd seen from any known faction, black as ash and with a solid visor to match.

It had reduced two floors to rubble, and now it was looking squarely at him. Kayleer had no way to defend himself, he could barely stand. If this thing wanted him dead, it would happen quickly.

"W-what do you want, who are you?!" He managed to stutter, but the stranger didn't seem interested in answering. It stepped forward.

"_Vaeyes kkarat urtraus?"_

"What?"

"What? A pirate that doesn't speak his own language? Color me shocked," the stranger laughed. Its voice was synthesized and cold, made to sound almost human and vaguely female. But Kayleer could hear a deep, scraggly growl beneath every word. A translator? No, the growls were speaking in human tongue too.

The stranger looked the handicapped creature over and shot him a dirty glare.

"Shit, they didn't tell me I'd have to lug half the hospital back along with you. You gonna die if I get rid o' all that crap?"

"They, who's they? Lug me where?" Kayleer tried to stay calm, but with every word of the intruder's plan his panic grew. He began to push the rest of the debris off his body and struggled to his feet.

"Eh, not important. What is important is that you come quickly and quietly so I won't feel guilty forcing a vegetable to comply."

"I'm not going anywhere," he spat. But even he knew his defiance to be a farce. With a final exertion he finally found a foothold for his crutch and pushed himself erect. He met the creature at eye level now, and scowled in its visor.

She shrugged. "Alright, fine, don't say I didn't give you the chance though." With her hands on her hips she casually kicked the bottom of one of the pirate's crutches. It skidded and flew askew, and Kayleer came crashing right back down to the floor.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" he cried, groaning as he struggled again to right himself.

"Hey! It's not my fault, I warned you!" the visitor protested, leaning down. She grabbed the pirate by the arm and pulled him upwards.

"What are you doing?!"

Effortlessly, she draped Kayleer over her shoulder and started climbing back up to the roof, using the rubble as a foothold. She carried him off like baggage, back to her waiting ship.

"HELP! Someone he-"

She grabbed one of his antennae and squeezed it, holding it in place uncomfortably far from his head.

"OWWWW!" He cried. "_Don't touch that!"_

A steely foot planted itself on the roof and she worked her way to its edge, leaning over to give the pirate a view of the 20-story drop.

"Hey, raise a big stink and I'll throw you off the roof," she whispered, her voice deathly serious. Kayleer could feel a breeze wafting up the side of the building he was so close to tumbling down. His eyes widened and he suddenly became quiet.

Just as quickly as the creature's tone turned dour, it became light-hearted again. She started laughing, pulling away from the edge. "God damn, what a _pussy_, hahahaHAA, that sure shut you up, didn't it?"

She looked up and waved to her ship, which rested just a little ways above them. "What are you waiting for, a fucking invitation? Lower the ramp, idiot!"

"ATTENTION, UNAUTHORIZED VESSEL. YOU ARE FLYING IN RESTRICTED AIRSPACE. IF YOU DO NOT RELOCATE, WE WILL BE FORCED TO TAKE ACTION."

"Blah blah blah." A sleek metal ramp extended from the ship's side and hovered just above the edge of the hospital. Happily humming with her synthesized voice, she walked on board, prisoner in tow.

Kayleer was thrown to the messy linoleum floor of an outdated ship. The firm seal of a sliding door followed behind him.

"And here I had a nice cell all cleaned out for you, doesn't look like I even need it," she said. She reached for his arms and unlatched the crutches, tearing them away and throwing them haphazardly all the way across the deck.

"Hey!" Kayleer cried in protest. He slumped against the wall, unable to move his useless legs and unable to even stand up now, thanks to her. Awkwardly, he shuffled with his arms to at least sit upright. He felt the telltale sign of movement as the scene outside the window shifted from the blue haze of Vaeres' sky to the dark black backdrop of space. Finally he managed to get his back against the wall, and swallowed the humiliation that came with demanding answers from his captor.

"That's it, I want an answer. Who the hell are you?! Why did you kidnap me, why did you take away my crutches, what is _wrong_ with you?!"

"Mmm, I think it'd be a shorter answer to tell you what's _right_ with me, honestly," she cackled, taking her place in the pilot's chair. It spun in place freely, for she had deliberately broken the latch that kept it still. She put her arm against the control console, and with a single thrust, she set it off in a twirl.

"WHEEEEEEE. That went off so _SMOOTHLY!"_ She chortled, her voice distorted as the deck spun around her. "Do you know how rare that is?"

Kayleer didn't know how to respond. He didn't know what was going on, what this maniac wanted, and as Vaeres became smaller and smaller through the view in the porthole his panic only grew thicker.

"Take me back, _right now!"_


	60. P3: Chapter 7 - Answers

"Mmmmmm, no."

"Why? Why not? Why did you kidnap me, who sent you and _why?"_

"Mmmmm, also no."

"No to what? What is wrong with you, y-you're _insane_. Is this some kind of game to you?"

"27!"

Kayleer groaned. He put his hands against his eyes and shook his head. "I just wanted to go home, I'd finally made that decision after everything went wrong and I-I can't deal with this insanity, with you, whoever you are. I just...can't," he sighed. He took a deep breath, then another, his eyes closed. He was trying to regain his composure, as difficult as this insipid creature was making that for him. When his eyes opened once more, he noticed that the pilot had stopped spinning, and was now staring at him. Her helmet rested on her claw and tottered back and forth.

He sneered. This really was a game to her. Why was she staring? Was she waiting for him to do something? Fine, if she treated this like a game then he would have to treat it like one too.

"Okay, how about this then? I ask you a question, and you get to ask me one."

"What if I don't want to answer the question?"

"Then you don't," Kayleer replied. Finally he got an actual response out of her.

"And what if you don't want to answer my question?"

"I'll answer it anyway."

"Oooh, I like this game, it's rigged," she cooed.

"But I get to go first."

She threw her head back in the chair and groaned. "UGH there's always a catch isn't there, fiiiiinneee." She sat upright and looked at him again, "So what's your question?"

As calmly as he could, he asked, "Why did you take me from the hospital, and where are you taking me?"

"EEEEEGGHH, that's two questions, you gotta pick one."

"Fine, the first one!" Kayleer yelled, losing his patience.

"Oh that's easy, I'm a bounty hunter and you're the bounty. Someone wants you baaddd, and I'm making bank to do it."

"Why? Why do they want me, who wants me?"

"Um, wow you need to stop cheating, it's my turn."

Kayleer grimaced, but fell silent anyway.

"Ok my question isssssss… hmmm, OH! Nahh that's boring. Okay I got one, what's your favorite color?"

Kayleer just stared at her. "What?"

"You said you would answer all my questions, don't be a liar."

"My... favorite color, seriously? That's seriously what you're asking?"

"Did you just ask _me_ another question? Yes, that is my question, and now you owe me two."

"I… " Kayleer was dumbfounded. "I don't know. I guess I like amber."

"Pfffffff, boring. Okay my second question since you owe me, why don't you speak Urtraghian? You look like a pirate and there's no hiding that, I'm not crazy, so why don't you do pirate-speak?"

A real question? Maybe this thing was self-aware after all. "It's because I wasn't raised by pirates, I grew up with the natives of Aether."

"Oh yeah, those moth thingies. I heard of 'em. Well lucky you, pirates are trash, and if you were actually a real one it'd be a lot harder to resist killin' you. But… you _are_ a pirate, aintcha? You some kind of experiment gone wrong?" She kicked against the floor and started spinning again, her gaze locked on the ceiling.

"Don't I get another question first?"

"Mmm, you _would_ have, but then you wasted it just now, so there you go. Now answer mine."

Kayleer scowled. This thing was testing his patience more than anyone he'd ever met. "Yes, I am one. But no, I was not their experiment. I was saved from them, and altered by the Luminoth."

"Interesting," she replied, kicking the floor to renew her momentum.

"Why do _you_ speak their language?"

"Hmmm, I don't really want to answer that. NEXT."

"Then can you tell me who ordered you to capture me? Who is paying you?"

"Oo see, I _would_ answer that. But I can't, cuz I don't know. Just some guy."

"Do you know what he looks like at least?!"

"Oh, yeah. Weird lookin' dude. Really secretive. Reallly likes black and green. Has a helmet with a big-ass green stripe right down the middle. No clue what species, actually I think he's a robot?"

Kayleer felt a small wave of relief. "So, not another pirate."

The bounty hunter planted her foot on the ground and stopped the spinning. "A pirate? Why the hell would I be workin' for a pirate? Why? _WHY?_ Because I speak their language? Because I look like one? _Do you think I look like one? Sound like one? __**What do you mean 'another' pirate?!**_"

Kayleer felt a sudden surge of anger. It was so unexpected and volatile, and he recoiled against the wall. She was up now, walking towards him, a golden blade had unsheathed from her arm. "W-what no. No! I mean another pirate, like me. There's someone I think is looking for m-"

His words were cut off as the bounty hunter placed her blade between his eyes. He could feel the heat of the blade on his skin.

"You think I'm working for a pirate? You think _I am _a pirate? Huh? _HUH? It's my turn to ask a question, you better answer."_

"N-no! I don't! I don't think you're a pirate I don't even _know_ what you are or who you are or why any of this is happening! P-please don't. Didn't the buyer specify they want me alive or something?" Kayleer shuddered. So much heat and anger was coming off her in droves. She was clearly unstable, and he didn't put it past her to kill him even if she _did_ need him alive.

To his relief, the blade withdrew. Suddenly the anger was gone, too, replaced with a crippling sadness. So implausible and strange was the shift, he swore for a moment that the drugs had affected his sense of empathy, too.

But the pilot's tone reflected the shift just as well as Kayleer felt it. "You don't know what I am, what species? You really don't? You can't tell?"

"I-" Kayleer stopped. What was the right answer? He felt like his life rested on his response. But he didn't know, he truly didn't. The way she was shaped, she looked like a pirate, but it was hard to tell beneath all that armor. Was she one? Was she some other look-alike species he didn't know about? Desperately he went through the options in his head, trying to piece it together.

Her hands had gone to her helmet. Her back was to him, but he could see her shoulders subtly moving up and down, in line with the distorted sound of sharp inhales. Her scraggly voice pocked each breath with a tiny cry. She was sobbing. Kayleer recognized the sound, the pattern, he had heard it before in only one species.

"You're human?"


	61. P3: Chapter 8 - Vermin

She erupted into wails and fell on her knees.

Kayleer didn't know how to react. What was he supposed to do, feel sorry for her? For his kidnapper, who intended to sell him? By all logic he shouldn't have felt any sympathy at all. But it was hard not to, as the depth of her depression hit him he found himself feeling incredibly guilty.

So she was human after all. But how? She certainly didn't look like one. But with so many races and such vast technologies, what did he know? Maybe she was just a human brain in a synthetic body, or some madman experiment gone wrong. Obviously she was sensitive about it, which probably meant it wasn't supposed to happen. She hid her face for a reason.

"I'm… sorry?" Kayleer said without fully realizing it. He leaned forward and reached a hand for her shoulder. He wasn't entirely sure of the protocol here but he let himself fall back on his years of interactions with humans to guide him.

Evidently, that had been a mistake. No sooner had he brushed her shoulder did she swivel around and draw her blade. She grabbed his arm and snarled, slashing straight through his mask. She left a sizeable gash in one of the respiratory tubes, and air that should have gone to Kayleer's useless lungs began to spill out into the ship.

His eyes widened as he quickly realized his error. He grasped futilely at the broken tube, trying to seal the hole. He collapsed sideways on the floor and started to choke.

"Oh fuck, I didn't mean to do _that,_" she whined.

A long metal arm suddenly extended from the ceiling and pressed against Kayleer's mask. It wrapped something silver and flexible around the damaged tube. Air flow resumed, the pirate began to breathe again. His head lolled and his eyes closed with the sudden grateful realization that he was not going to die after all.

"You were way too ready for that, you just _knew _I was going to fuck up, didn't you you cheeky bastard."

"_Just staying prepared, Sir. I assumed something about him would set you off, just like all the others," _a synthesized, accented voice resonated from speakers in the walls of the ship.

"Oh you just know me so well, don't you?" The pilot snarked.

"_It is my job to do so, Tejed."_

"Yeah yeah, whatever."

Kayleer opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. The metal arm retracted back, and the pirate touched his mask, wondering what had been done to it.

"_Metal adhesive. It isn't much in the way of a permanent repair but it will seal a hole,"_ the AI told him.

"Oh yeah, mutant, that's Jarvis. I named him after a comic book character from like a million years ago. He fixes shit up when I snap."

She was so cheery and casual, and it annoyed him to no end.

"We're not on friendly terms, you psychopath," he scowled.

"Noo, but you are a cripple. And that means you can't really do jack about my tone, now can you?"

With that she turned back to her chair, plopped down in it and resumed her childish spinning.

She was right, as much as he hated it. He was useless, and could do nothing to stop her from delivering him to whatever depraved mind had ordered his capture. Some small part of him had suspected, or rather, hoped it was an attempt from Aether to bring him home. But no Luminoth would ever do business with someone so dangerous and volatile, much less hire them. The description the bounty hunter had given him didn't ring any bells, either, and so Kayleer hadn't the slightest clue who was out to get him.

He rested his head against the wall and tried to think. He was distracted by the distant sound of skittering against metal, some gears in need of maintenance or vermin, perhaps.

Suddenly another anxiety crept up from the back of his mind. How long would the journey take? How long would his supply of suppressants last? Ashwitt had filled it more than five days ago, the supply was weekly. In less than two days, 215 would come roaring back, and Kayleer would be helpless to stop him.

"How long is this going to take?" Kayleer asked quietly.

"What, you eager to leave me or something? Cuz I doubt your buyers are gonna be _half_ as fun as I am!"

"Just answer, please."

"Hmmmm, well we're going outside of Federation space but it's not like, _ridiculously_ far just kinda in an obscure place. Like, a day, maybe? Maybe less?"

_Only a day? Good_, Kayleer thought. Maybe whoever he was getting sold to would be easier to reason with. It was a stretch, for sure, but a change in captor was the only opportunity he had to somehow find his way home, and that would never happen if 215 was already awake.

Or, more likely, whomever he was being turned over to would be a thousand times worse and subject him to ungodly amounts of torture and testing.

He shuddered.

"What are they paying you? I can match it."

"No you can't."

"I can!" Kayleer protested. "You have any idea the resources I have access to? The Federation values me as an asset, I can-"

"The Federation?" the hunter snorted. "They pay shit for the jobs I already do for them, what makes you think they'll pay more for you than this other guy, huh?"

"Well you'll never know unless you ask."

"Yeah, nice try. Sending out a signal will just 1, implicate me as the one who abducted you and 2, tell them where to find me. Do I look stupid to you?"

Kayleer winced. She'd called his bluff.

"Plus they'll already be all pissy at me for wreckin' their building. MAN that was fun though, wasn't it? BOOM!"

Kayleer only shook his head. What was wrong with this creature? She acted like a manic child.

"Oh don't gimme that look. You should be thanking me. Look, you get to see space and go on a fun little trip instead of shuffling around in a hospital," she let out a cough. "Needles all up in ya, bunch of shit to make sure you're still alive, some annoyingly sincere twink comin' in every hour, 'Hi, you alright? Can I get you anything?' BLECH!" She let out a wheeze and fell backwards in her chair. "Well, you know all about that don't you."

The skittering in the walls became louder. Kayleer could hear what almost sounded like voices, something burning and crackling far away. It was distant, and he wondered for a moment if he was hallucinating.

"_Sir, there's something you need to attend to," _Jarvis suddenly chimed in.

"WHAT IS IT NOW!?" She shrieked. But she could already hear the problem too. It suddenly shifted, and became a loud, thunderous banging that came from one of the halls that led out of the deck.

"Oh for fuck's sake not _again._"

"_Yes Tejed, again. I keep telling you you shouldn't be keeping-"_

"Shut the hell up, I can deal with a little outbreak once in a while," she remarked, slipping out of her chair. She recovered a pistol from the underside of the command console and headed towards the source of the noise. It was getting louder and more frequent.

"What are you talking about? What's going on?" Kayleer blurted.

"You shut up too." She turned her back to the both of them and disappeared behind a sliding metal door.

Kayleer could hear the distant sound of plasma shots. He could swear he heard the sound of shrieks, but his senses were too weak to truly tell. "AI, what's going on? What is she doing?"

The AI was silent. It stood to reason that it wouldn't give him any information without its pilot's consent. But suddenly her voice came booming through the intercom.

"_Fuck, fuck FUCK. JARVIS! This isn't __**working**_ _there's way too many and they are EVERYWHERE!"_

"_What do you want me to do?"_

She hesitated for a moment, and Kayleer could hear the sound of expletives whispered under her breath.

"_Dammit, can the pirate hear me?"_

"What's everywhere? What is going on?!" Kayleer began to panic.

"_Yes, Sir."_

"_Good, ACK, I need him to hit the manual override to-OW! To -SHIT! To detach this area of the ship!"_

"_Tejed, are you sure it can't be salvaged?"_

More grunting, more fired blasts. "_Yes, I'm sure!"_

"What is she talking about?!"

The AI's mechanical arm reached down to the floor and plucked up the pirate's crutches. It slid along its rail and finally dropped them right in front of him. Kayleer didn't know what to say.

"_Hurry and get up, please."_

"Why should I help you?" Kayleer scoffed. "Tell me what's going on!"

"_There's been a… pest invasion in the west area of the ship. It's unmanageable and we need to detach it before they spread."_

"Pest? What kind of pest? What the hell kind of pest could do so much damage that you need to tear your ship apart?"

"_Please, you need to hurry. She is in danger."_

"_Any day now!?" _The bounty hunter screeched through the intercom.

Kayleer laughed. "You kidnap me, tell me you're selling me, and now you need my help? Now you expect me to _help her?_"

"_Listen you idiot pirate, you don't do this and I'm not the only one who's going to suffer. These things are going to burn through the ship and get to the deck, and you bet your cripple ass you won't be half as good at fending them off as I am."_

Kayleer scowled. Was she lying? Was he really in danger? What was she fighting that was so dangerous, and why was it on her ship at all? He didn't want to risk the chance that she was telling the truth. And maybe, he thought, maybe if he helped her it would get him a bit closer to persuading her of his release.

It was a stretch, but having weighed his options he finally made up his mind. "Fine," he spat. He slid his arms into his crutches and began to pick himself up off the floor. The process was slow and clumsy, and the AI became impatient.

"Hey!"

A mechanical arm plucked the pirate off the floor and dropped him in the cockpit.

"Was that necessary?"

"_I need you to press the third button on the left, right in front of you."_

Kayleer stared down at the console. He hovered his hand over what he assumed the AI was talking about. "This one?"

"_Yes."_

Kayleer pressed it. A message popped up on the hardlight display, asking for some kind of affirmation.

"Why can't _you_ do this?" Kayleer quipped.

"_These failsafes are a countermeasure to rogue AIs. I cannot touch them. Click the west region on the display, click yes and hurry, please, enter the affirmation code 4-8-3-4-9-1-2-7. Then shift the direction of the warp."_

Kayleer followed the AI's instructions. Just as he was finishing punching in the last digits he heard the panicked slam of a door followed by the noisy metal footsteps of the bounty hunter. "HURRY UP!" She shrieked as something clamored and screamed at the door behind her. Kayleer finally finished and the noises suddenly stopped, they accelerated forward from the momentum as an entire sector of the ship was jettisoned into space.

Kayleer stared at her. His mind was racing, firing with a thousand questions. "What the hell just happened?" He demanded.

"Just _be quiet_ already," she groaned. She took a step forward from the door but stumbled, wincing in pain as she clutched at one of her prosthetic legs.

"God _dammit_!" she yelled, trying futilely to move it only to be graced with the sound of shearing rust and metal.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm FINE!" she shrieked. "What do you care?"

Despite her pompous response, she knew her leg was fried. Finding a mechanic would lead them far off-course, and they were on a deadline. Not to mention such a venture would only give the pirate a chance to jump ship. No, she would have to make do.

She tried to stand, but as soon as she put weight on her left leg, she heard a sickening spark, and collapsed right back down again.

"FUCK!"

"Your prosthetics are damaged. I used to be engineer, maybe I can have a look?"

"Fat fucking chance," she spat.

But despite her defiance, the pirate came closer. He stared at her damaged leg, tilted his head and examined it. The hunter turned her head away. She knew this was a farce.

"Do you have repair tools?" he asked.

She looked in the other direction and did not respond for a moment.

"JARVIS!"

"_Equipment for manual maintenance is kept on-deck, Sir, but I should mention they are intended for the ship's-"_

"I don't care, it's all we have, isn't it?!"

"_Very well."_

A metallic drawer opened beside the pilot's chair. The hunter made no attempt to retrieve its contents, and so the pirate was left with the assumption that she was indeed allowing him to work.

He grabbed what he deemed necessary and clasped them alongside his crutches. As he approached, he found himself greeted with a violent snarl.

"What's your angle, pirate, you hoping to get something out of this?"

"Honestly?" Kayleer scoffed. Lying wasn't going to get him anywhere. "Well… Tejed, right? Perhaps I could trade you a good repair job for my freedom?"

She burst out laughing. "You think I need you? Your kind are a dime a dozen, you think you're the only one in the quadrant who knows anything about robotics?"

"Well I-"

"The amount I'd spend on a mechanic is fucking pocket change compared to the bounty they offered for you. Like hell I'm giving that up."

"Fine, if you're so dead set on that then you can fix yourself," he said, turning away. He didn't know why he ever thought this would work.

She raised her pistol and cocked it loudly.

"That said, I do prefer this convenience. And, I'm on a deadline. How about this for a deal? You fix me, I _don't_ turn your head into a crater, and I don't have Jarvis jettison your corpse into space."

Kayleer shook his head. Killing him would defeat the entire purpose of returning him for a bounty, yet she certainly seemed insane enough to do it. Despite the ordeal, he was still a hostage, and he had nothing with which to fight back. And so, he conceded.

He knelt down, nervously eyeing Tejed's pistol. He put his limited tools to work.

As he set to fixing her, she lowered her gun. She kept a paranoid glare on him, but her demeanor seemed to shift for the better. Even if she did not intend to let him go now, Kayleer clung to the hope that he could still win her over.

"Whoever made these clearly didn't know what they were doing," he mumbled. "Or else didn't care."

"Yes, thank you for the obvious," she spat.

"What sort of outdated cheapskate uses hydraulics for surrogate limbs? This material isn't even rust-proof, all your sheaths are wearing away."

"Yeah yeah, fuck off. I'm aware they suck. Why are you still talking? Hurry up and fix them."

"Have you ever considered commissioning new ones?"

"You any idea how much that fucking costs? I have more important things to spend my money on."

"What could possibly be more important than your own legs?"

"None of your damn business, that's what."

"I could make you a new pair for free, you know, if you let me go."

Tejed eyed the pirate's own prosthetic. His metal fingers moved with identical precision as his own, and there wasn't the slightest sign of wear. She'd have been lying if she said she wasn't envious. So much more caring had gone into its crafting than hers, and it showed. But she wasn't about to let this temptation cheat her.

"Stupid fucking pirate, I just said _I DON'T NEED NEW ONES._ What part of that don't you get? I need money, so unless you're willing to pay your seven million credits worth of bounty, I'm not fucking interested."

"Seven million? For me?" Kayleer was astounded. "Why would anyone pay that for me?"

"Don't know, a bunch of goons paying big bucks for Luminoth blood. They don't go off planet, and no one wants to go near their homeworld and start a war with some race on par with the Chozo. You're the closest thing to one that's accessible, you're nice and rare."

"I see. Any chance you know what they plan to do with me?"

"Don't know, don't care."

Kayleer realized he probably wasn't getting anywhere. With a _clank_ he righted the pistons in her leg and heard the satisfying whirl of parts.

"Hey, you done?"

"Almost, I just need to-"

"Great! Close enough," she bellowed, standing up.

"Wait!" Kayleer protested. It was obvious he wasn't finished. She could somewhat stand but she moved with a lopsided limp.

"Feels great!" She lied, letting out a sizeable and painful wheeze. Something bright and blue dripped from the underside of her helmet.

"But I didn't…" Kayleer tried to explain, but she hurriedly left the room. The door shut quickly behind her.

"What was that about? What's wrong with her?"


	62. P3: Chapter 9 - Guilt

_Author's note:_ _Tejed's original creator, Delta-Hexagon, wanted to contribute to this week's chapter, so you will see a bit of their writing interspersed with mine(marked between '*' notations). Thank you, Delta, for your contribution, and of course for allowing me to use your character and the story we built together. _

* * *

She quickly shut the door behind her. Once she was sure the pirate could not hear nor see her, she threw her helmet off and collapsed. She had almost suffocated in the thing. It dripped with blue ooze, pouring from something broken deep inside her. She knew what was coming next and she didn't want to be anywhere near another person when it did.

"Ohhhh, they bit me," she groaned. "They bit me a _lot_ Jarvis."

"_Are you going to be alright?"_

Her answer came in the form of a retch. A huge outpouring of luminous blue erupted from her hybrid jaw. It burned her coming up, and left her mouth sore and bloody.

"That's it, get it out, get it out, out, out," she rasped. Another wheeze, another splat of liquid flew to the floor, tainted with her blood. Tejed was shaking now, her arms wracked in uncontrollable shudders. Her thinking was hazed, she couldn't see straight. "No no noooo," she whined. She wasn't getting it out of her system fast enough. It had already seeped into her blood.

Four arms extended from the ceiling and gently took hold of her limbs. They pulled her back against the wall and held her there, restrained. She didn't put up a fight.

"_Promise me you won't do that again."_

"But I make my own fuel!" She protested. "It's like the only thing I can get for free. I just can't get a single good thing out of this, can I?"

"_It's not a fuel, it's _alive_, and every time you leave it for too long it spawns those things."_

"Stop rubbing it in alright I learned my les-" her words were cut off as she hurled out a thick wad of blue slime.

She chuckled. Trying desperately to suppress the shaking in her voice, she put on an air of confidence. "You know, if you really think about it they're like my babies. My little blue alien bug babies, comin' out of the goo, the goo I spit up every day. For them, like a mamma bird. They're just tryin' to get it back to me, you know? Like they don't know. My babies don't know I don't want it back ahhahaHAHA. "

"_Tejed, please stop, you need to save your strength."_

Her vision was turning white and black. Her tremors intensified. She tried to speak but found she couldn't. The yellow of her eyes sank beneath an insidious blue. Tendrils of light sprouted from her back and poured from her mouth. She roared, her restrained limbs fought against their holds, trying wildly to free themselves.

She shrieked, pounded her head against the wall. Her limbs clawed helplessly at air, desperate to sink themselves into something living. But the AI held her fast to the wall.

*Every scream was accompanied by the tensing of manic muscles and the clank of steel on steel. Every struggle was overshadowed by the frenetic beating of a heart too human to oppose the living, electric blue pouring into it. Any semblance of sanity had been replaced with the deep, primal need to destroy, kill, and purge, to sink those grasping claws into flesh and tear and tear and _tear _until there was nothing left.

She strained futilely against her holdings; she was strong but the mechanical limbs were stronger. There was no chance of escape. Jarvis held fast, waiting it out; he had done this many times before and this time was no different.

Tejed's anger filled the room with shards of vocal glass and crackling ire. Even in her corrupted state, she knew. She _knew _someone was out there. Someone she could _kill_, something she could sink her teeth into. And the corruption knew, too.

"JARVIS!" The arms shuddered but held fast. Tejed's screaming wound down for a moment and she exhaled a single brilliant puff of blue. "Jarvis…" she cooed with a singsong lilt, "Jarvis let him in.. Please?"

"_No."_

"But I want TO PLAY!" She cackled.

She lashed out again, this time managing to pull hard enough to bring her hand to her head, claws drawn and tense. Jarvis yanked it back before she could hurt herself, and she erupted into laughter.

"But he's so **fragile**," she whined. "Lookit how pathetic he is, that little cripple. That little..._pirate_," she grinned. "Oh he'll tear open so _easily_… he can't even run. What color do you think his blood is? Still black? Red like mine? I want to _know._"

She stopped struggling for a moment, her blazing eyes squeezed shut and the laughter ceased. It made room for another retch, another cascade of alien sludge, mixed with her mutant blood and viscera. Every extremity clenched in pain, her body doing everything it could to keep from turning inside out.

"_It'll be over soon, Tejed."*_

Kayleer had heard the sound of a latch locking as the pilot left him behind. It was not as if he had any intention of following her; his curiosity wasn't nearly enough for him to risk whatever was waiting for him behind that door. Just before she left he had felt her panic, her fear. He knew she was hiding something. An injury perhaps, some sort of weakness she had sustained from whatever mysterious battle she fought in the now-jettisoned area of the ship.

He was becoming paranoid. The pilot refused to tell him what happened and now she had left in a flurried panic. The pirate didn't know whether he should be afraid, too.

Not wanting to waste the energy to walk anywhere, he slumped against the pilot's console and stared blankly forward. He tried to stay calm, though he was well aware that the ship was moving closer and closer to his unknown fate.

"Any chance you'll tell me what's going on?" He finally asked. The AI answered him with a cold silence.

Despite her current state, as a force of habit the AI kept Tejed aware of everything going on in the ship. She heard the pirate's words, and started laughing.

"Oooohh, he wants to know does he?" She cackled. "TELL HIM!" She screamed. "Tell him Jarvis I WANT HIM TO KNOW. Let him see what a monster they made. Let him in here so he CAN SEE," she jostled once again, letting loose a roar as she banged against the wall.

"Better yet, LET 'IM IN!" She spat through a mouth lined with blue drool. "I thought I told you to LET HIM IN, I _WANT HIM TO SEE ME_. I WANT TO _PLAY WITH HIM._"

Jarvis ignored her. He would take no orders until she sobered up.

The room was soundproof. Tejed had prepared it precisely for this situation, a place where she could hide, be restrained, and spare her pride.

While the room was soundproof, its privacy was imperfect. It could not mask everything from the pirate, and through its thick walls Kayleer could still feel something. Though faintly, he could feel a miasma of hatred, of anger, loathing and pure, unadulterated frenzy. Something was horribly wrong in there, and it terrified him to think what it was.

Kayleer became agitated. If neither the AI nor the pilot would tell him anything, then he would find out himself. He picked himself off the floor and began to look around, searching for something, anything that would give him the slightest clue to unraveling the secrets of the one known as 'Tejed'.

His eyes were drawn to the door she had originally burst through, from where the shrieking and clawing had come. What could have been beyond it that was so dangerous as to toss the entire section into space?

He walked towards it, keeping his guard up in case the AI or the pilot sought to stop him. They were secretive about whatever was going on, and Kayleer feared that any attempt on his part to uncover the truth would be met with hostility.

But even the AI seemed preoccupied. It offered no reaction at all as Kayleer freely roamed the deck. Perhaps it was distracted, or maybe it was simply confident that the pirate's efforts were futile.

As Kayleer neared the door, he did not see anything of promise. The porthole looked out into a black, star-studded void. Seemingly nothing remained of the threat Tejed had left behind it. The silvery black border of the door offered no answers, and neither did the empty space beyond it. Yet there was something about it that kept the pirate looking.

There was a smell. Though faint against his antennae, he could sense it. Kayleer didn't immediately recognize it, and yet he felt with it an intense fear. His arms shook as he took it in. It was cold, metallic and bitter, and produced a profound feeling of nostalgic terror. The pirate felt it, yet he could not put an image nor name to it.

But as he looked closer it began to dawn on him. Within the crevices of the airlocked rubber he could see it, something blue and oozing. It coated the edges of the door like a slime, and the pirate's tremors became more profound. He suddenly felt nauseous, and took a step back. His head felt light and his senses clouded, he felt his heart slamming against his chest. He stumbled and slipped, crashing back down to the floor.

_Phazon._ He finally realized. Why, _why _did she have phazon? Kayleer's panicked mind began to piece it all together. She had been storing phazon here, and it had erupted into a spawn of grubs. Had they bitten her? Infected her? Was that why she ran?

Suddenly Kayleer remembered he had touched her. He had repaired her leg, bare-handed, after she had burst from that slime-covered door. Frantically he examined his hands, difficult as it was while wracked with shivers. Was there any on him? He didn't feel any burning, he didn't see any blue. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that it was _on_ him. That familiar stench still clung to his mind and kept him from thinking clearly.

_Calm down_, he told himself. _As long as it doesn't touch you, you're fine_. He repeated that familiar line to himself, over and over. He doubted very much it was the kind of strain that could infect on its own. It wasn't moving, and it hadn't gotten inside him, he would have felt it. Slowly Kayleer's sense of reason began to win over.

"Why are you carrying phazon?!" Kayleer demanded, finally able to articulate himself.

The question shocked the AI. What had given it away? It hadn't been paying close attention to the deck, but from what it could see there was nothing that made them obvious. Once more, it simply ignored the pirate, Tejed could deal with his questions when and if she wished.

Her head was lolled over, brilliant white hair covering her face. Her limbs twitched every now and again as the last bits of phazon dripped out of her mouth. The floor was covered in the sludge, mixed with her blood. Jarvis hoped nothing too vital had come up in her retching, the AI knew how much she loathed hospital visits.

It could feel her pulse begin to slow back to normal. As her eyes opened once more, the AI could see they were yellow.

"_Tejed, can you hear me?"_

"Ugghhhhhhhhhhh," she moaned. She picked up her head and stared at the puddles of ooze. "Jarvis I made a mess."

"_I know,"_ the AI answered. "_I will deal with it."_ The mechanical arms slowly unwound from Tejed's limbs and placed her gently on the floor. She slumped against the wall and groaned.

"_Are you alright?"_

"Yeah, yeah," she brushed him off, using the wall to pull herself up. She winced as she felt a spike of pain in her chest. She wobbled as she tried to walk, enduring it. It was more than the usual soreness she was used to.

"_Tejed, there is significant damage to your-"_

"Shut up, I don't want to hear it."

"_We need to go back -"_

"NO!" She roared, gripping at her chest as she flinched with the strain of her yell. "Gotta finish the job first, aye? Then I'll go check myself back in," she promised. She was hurt, she wasn't dumb enough to deny that. But it wasn't bad enough to turn around.

"_You don't have any other stores hidden elsewhere, do you?"_

"No," she spat, rolling her eyes. Without that phazon, she was out a six-month supply of fuel, and she would need to get more than a hundred times the amount in gel to match it. But expenses didn't matter, she reminded herself. Once she delivered the pirate she would be homefree.

"_The pirate knows about the phazon," _Jarvis reminded her.

Tejed grumbled, but didn't answer. She reclaimed her helmet from the floor, taking care not to step in the corrosive puddles. She sneered as she looked her helmet over; the rim was coated in phazon, and the inside was still lined with vomit. She tossed it aside. She wasn't in public, and she didn't care if the pirate saw her anymore. She was exhausted.

"I need tea," she decided. "Make me tea."

As she entered the deck, she saw her prisoner right where she left him. Still on the floor, he flinched noticeably as he saw her. She bristled with instinctive anger, wondering if he was reacting to the way she looked.

"Why do you have phazon?!" He blurted. "Those were grubs, weren't they? W-were you bitten by those things? You're not infected are you?"

Tejed scowled. She considered for a moment ignoring his questions and giving him nothing. But from his expression she knew he was terrified, and it egged her on.

"So what if I am infected, you scared or something?" She grinned.

Kayleer winced. Was he scared of her for simply being infected? No, he had fought thousands of infected pirates before her. Their plague was blood-borne, and they did not spread it themselves. He wasn't in danger of infection from her, not unless she injected her blood straight into him. But that still left the question of how she had been infected in the first place. His guess was that she was an addict, and the bounty hunting was merely a way to support the habit.

"No," he replied. "But, there aren't any grubs left on the ship, are there?" His eyes twitched around the deck.

Tejed was disappointed, she had hoped to freak him out just a _little_ bit. But the pirate didn't seem fazed by her appearance, nor by the admission of her infection. "Dunno," she said. "Jarvis?"

"_I'm not detecting any phazon signatures besides yours."_

"There you go," she concluded.

Kayleer felt the smallest bit of relief. Though it did little to improve his overall situation, knowing he was safe from infection eased at least one anxiety.

Tejed cocked her brow and stared at him. He truly didn't care that she was infected? That she looked this way? She supposed he wasn't human; he didn't carry the same expectations they did. But he intrigued her all the same. It almost frustrated her, his lack of interest.

"What?" She suddenly burst. "No 'what are you anyways?', no 'so do you free-base it or huff it or make it into brownies?'"

Kayleer was confused by her tone. Did she _want_ invasive questions from him?

"Why would I ask that?"

"Because _everyone_ says that shit." She replied. It wasn't really much of an answer, she supposed, but it was what she was used to.

When she captured a prisoner, they would beg, just like the pirate did. They would want to know what was going on, who had sent her. They would try to bargain for their freedom. And then, when that all failed, the insults would come. They would tell her how ugly she was. They'd make a point of her androgyny, call her a freak, a monster, a failed experiment or a lost bet. They would do everything they could to break her down and make her feel like shit. Because they were angry. When they realized they were trapped they would become belligerent, and they'd pick apart every aspect of her being to get to where it hurt, and have their revenge.

But the pirate didn't do that. Not once had he gotten angry with her, insulted her like every bounty before him. Tejed slowly realized that she wanted it; his anger, his hatred, because they would alleviate her guilt. She knew she deserved his verbal abuse, his violence. She thrived on it. She had stolen him away from a hospital bed for the promise of money, and not once had he shown her any kind of hatred for it. Sadness, disappointment, frustration, certainly, but never hatred nor insults. It confused and infuriated her, his refusal to take this personally.

"Why," she scowled. "Why aren't you angry at me?" her voice rose with her impatience, and she began to yell. "Look at me!" She cried. "Don't you want to say something? Tell me how ugly I am? What a freak I am? How I deserve to _die?!"_

Kayleer only shook his head and squinted, confused.

"GOD, you fucking IDIOT!" She groaned. "How does this not make you angry? Me fucking with you when we first met? Me keeping secrets- hell, me FUCKING TAKING YOU FROM A HOSPITAL IN THE FIRST PLACE?! Doesn't that make you angry? Doesn't it make you want to kill me for what I did? Just- FUCK. Don't you hate me?!" She pried.

The outpouring of guilt caught Kayleer by surprise. The creature had a conscience after all. He didn't know how to answer her with anything other than honesty.

"I just want to go home."


	63. P3: Chapter 10 - Revision

_Author's note: Hi everyone, this one is going up a bit early. I have a lot to focus on this week so probably won't be on here til a few weeks from now. Updates should resume by May at the latest. _

_I want you to know I do read and appreciate every review I get, even if I don't always respond. I love to hear your thoughts, observations and feedback, so thank you to everyone who has ever left a comment here._

_This is the last chapter for a little while but I will return soon. Hope you enjoy reading!_

* * *

"UGGGHHHHHH," Tejed moaned, dragging her hands across her face. "SHUT UP ABOUT THAT!" She turned away and wandered off from the deck. "Tea, tea I need tea."

She was embarrassed. She'd never felt so vulnerable as she did in that moment. She had bared her soul, had basically admitted to the pirate she was desperate for his hatred. And his response?

"'Ah jus' wenna go home,'" she parroted in a mocking tone. "Ugh."

She wandered into the kitchen. Jarvis, ever attentive, had brewed a kettle of tea for her. It was waiting on a slick plastic table next to her favorite mug, already full. She fell into the chair beside it and buried her head in her hands.

"God I hate him, I _hate him_."

But it wasn't really true, no. She hated that he didn't hate her, really. She knew the reason but was too stubborn to admit it.

"He's a pirate, a weird, mutant, freak Federation pirate maybe but still a pirate. He's scum. All pirates are scum they all deserve to suffer."

She took a sip from a white porcelain mug. The water singed her torn skin, but the nostalgic feeling of warmth was enough to smother the discomfort. It simply gave it a spicy kick. Jarvis had brewed a pot of jasmine, and though she couldn't really taste anything anymore, she loved the smell. It calmed her down and helped her forget the insidious kindness of her prisoner.

The guilt wouldn't go away, though, and no amount of tea was helping that fact. "Stop it Tejed, _stop it_," she whined. "He's a pirate, he's a pirate, _pirate, PIRATE!"_

But it wasn't helping. She knew his history from his public file. He was a voluntary soldier. For humans, her own kind, a species entirely alien to him but which he chose to help anyway. He had been crippled in the battle that had ended the war. Pirates were a threat no longer, thanks to soldiers like him. He had a name, not a number. 'K-Lir', she recalled. The natives of Aether had given it to him. He probably had some kind of family there, someone that cared about him. And she had just up and stolen him to sell his body.

"Fuck me," she sighed. "But seven million credits, Jarvis, seven _million_. Do you know what I could buy with that?"

The AI was silent, it knew she was merely bouncing ideas off of it. "I could buy an actual house. I could afford a private doctor, hell, a whole private medical team. They can replace everything that's broken in ol' fucked up me. They can reverse what that piece of shit did to me," she scowled. "Maybe. I can afford to stay alive, I-I can afford to feed myself and travel and just, get an actual life that isn't a goddamn cycle between bounty runs and hospital visits," she wheezed, wincing as the pain in her chest flared. "I need this so bad Jarvis. I just… I don't know, can you tell him I'm sorry? Tell him I feel bad okay."

"_Would you like to speak to him?"_

"NO. Just, tell him, okay?"

* * *

Kayleer reclined against the wall of the deck. How much time had passed since his capture? Many hours, certainly, they must be getting close. The pilot had betrayed her thoughts to him, her insecurities. He almost laughed with the idea that she felt guilty for kidnapping him. It seemed so comically out of character, but then again he didn't know her. Something about her face, though, now that he had seen it, seemed eerily familiar, as though he recognized her. Perhaps she simply reminded him of another human. Her face betrayed her origins, distorted though it was.

The ship's AI suddenly interrupted his thoughts.

"_You're not a bad person, you know. That just makes her job harder. Usually the bounty she hunts are fugitives or wanted criminals._"

"What?" Its words caught Kayleer by surprise, and he chuckled. "Oh, forgive me for making _her_ life hard."

"_Whatever it's worth, she is sorry. You mustn't think so lowly of her, she's only doing what she needs to get by."_

"And it's alright to get by with kidnapping and selling people? I can't be the only one, that's what freelancers do, isn't it? They don't care who hires them, for what purpose, as long as it pays. That's all this is and she _knows_ it."

The AI became quiet, trying to figure out what to say to elicit a favorable response for his pilot. But he knew what he said didn't matter, there was only one thing that would earn the pirate's forgiveness, and it was something Tejed simply could not do.

"_No one has ever offered her so much money for a single job. She has no choice but to take it."_

"And why's that?" Kayleer was becoming frustrated. What kind of indignant nonsense was this, was she seeking his forgiveness? "She's got a fancy ship, she 'doesn't need' new prosthetics, what does she need all that money for? More phazon? More drug money, is that it?"

"GOD NO," Tejed shrieked. "Is that what he thinks? That I'm an addict, that I actually _intentionally _put this shit in my body? HAHAHAHHAHAHA, _FUCK YOU_," she spat, though she knew he couldn't hear her. "Don't tell him I said that, guh."

"_I cannot say,_" the AI responded.

Kayleer frowned. The pilot was feeling guilty. He could feel she was on the verge of forsaking this mission, and if that were true then now was his opportunity to convince her. His eyes brightened with the prospect of his freedom, and so he collected his crutches and headed towards the corridor she had gone down.

"_Sir, he is coming towards the kitchen, would you like me to stop him?"_

Tejed wanted to say yes. She wanted to tell Jarvis to halt him, to throw him out the airlock and get him out of her life. But she didn't, she didn't say much of anything, beyond an incoherent, "Nooooo, yes, I don't _know_."

"_Tejed, if you want me to relocate him, I can do so easily."_

But she refused to give the order, and she wondered what was wrong with her, besides the obvious, as she heard the sound of crutches tapping on the linoleum beside her kitchen door. He stopped there.

He watched her with a cold stare from the doorframe. She glared right back and took a sip of tea. It became a sort of display, who could stare longer. She tried to look threatening. She bared her teeth and furrowed her brow and stuck out her short, stunted tongue. But his unwavering magenta gaze got to her faster. He was studying her, no doubt, wondering how someone could be so evil and greedy as her.

She broke away from his incriminating glare and stared down at the floor. Her eyes were starting to water, and she blamed it on the hot water. She continued to sip her tea, even when the cup was empty, trying her best to ignore him.

Having lived among humans, the pirate had developed the tendency to mimic them. His face was expressive and easy to read, and she hated that about him. It made him far more difficult to ignore.

"I know Jarvis already said this but, for what it's worth I _am_ sorry," she mumbled, staring down into an empty porcelain cup.

"It is worth nothing."

Tejed groaned. "But I ammmm," she buried her head in her folded arms. "I AM sorry. You and your stupid fucking face are just making me feel worse and worse about it."

"No one is forcing you to stay your course. No one is keeping you from turning around and taking me back," he said, feeling bold. "What sense does it make to act like you feel bad about making a profit off me and then go ahead and do it anyway?"

"I'M SORRY!" her head shot up from the table, tears filling her eyes. "But I NEED this! I'm living on borrowed time here, Kayleer. I can't afford the medical bills, I can't afford the constant help I need just to _stay alive_. I can't get a fucking normal job, just fucking _look at me_. Do this one job, and I'm set for life, I'll never have to worry whether or not I can afford to pay for food or fuel or a place to live or for _someone to keep me alive_." A white teacup fell to the floor and shattered as she filled the room with her desperate sobs.

"Maybe I should just kill myself, would that make it better, Kayleer?" Her pupils shrank and she stared towards the wall. "If I were dead, I wouldn't have to _worry_ about where my next paycheck comes from. I wouldn't have to worry about medical bills or prosthetics or food or anything ever again."

"Stop it," Kayleer sneered. He wasn't going to let her manipulate him. But her demeanor made him uneasy, it felt as though she were serious.

"No, that will make it all better, won't it? I'll have Jarvis take you home, your bounty will go unpaid, I'll be gone and you'll never have to worry about evil ol' Tejed kidnapping and bartering off cripples _ever again_."

"Tejed, _stop it_-"

"No, I've made up my mind," she cried. An energy blade flew from her rifle and she raised it to her throat.

"TEJED!" Running purely on instinct, Kayleer threw himself forward, abandoning his crutches and grabbing her arms. They both fell to the floor as her neck oozed black-red blood from a tiny sliver. She was really serious, wasn't she? Kayleer was shocked.

They wrestled with each other for a moment, trying to gain control of the blade.

"Why are you doing this? _What good does it do you to keep me alive?!_" Tejed cried, writhing in his grasp. "W-why are you so _goddamn, _s-so_... WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS, WHY DO YOU CARE?!" _ Her head swiveled to meet his and she found herself staring at his eyes. Those awful, _expressive_ eyes, filled with genuine concern for a stranger who had so horribly wronged him.

The blade fizzled into nothing and its wielder burst into tears. She threw her arms around him and cried, burying her head in his fur. He didn't know what to think as Tejed pressed against his chest and sobbed, the full brunt of her regret and depression sinking deep into his mind.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please, _please_ forgive me. I'll take you back, I'll find some other way to make the money I promise. I was just _so desperate_. I'm not a bad person, am I Kayleer? Please, tell me I'm not, I'm not a bad person."

His was still in shock, he still wasn't quite sure how to react. Tejed embraced him tightly, as though they were long-lost friends, and he still didn't know the first thing about her. Yet he could feel her desperation for contact, her unfathomable loneliness and despair. She truly was sorry, and she was sincere when she had offered to return him. Remorse wasn't something a truly evil person would feel. No, she wasn't bad, she was broken and desperate, and she was trying to right her wrongs. He could see the light in her, buried though it was, the same way he could see it in himself.

"No, you're not," he said, shakily returning her hug.

Tejed couldn't remember the last time she'd held someone, the last time anyone had held _her_. Not since she was fully human, she reckoned, decades ago. It was far too much for her to bear and she abandoned herself completely, letting her tears drench Kayleer's soft, silken fur.

They were frozen for a moment, until Tejed finally broke away, slowly unwinding from the pirate. She stifled her sobs, eyes locked on the floor.

"Listen, Tejed. I just want to go back. I have my own resources, maybe I can help you, maybe the Federation can help you. You don't have to be alone. You'll be alright, okay?"

Tejed only nodded, still staring at the floor.

"_Shall I shift course back to Vaeres, Sir?"_ Again she nodded, and the AI complied.

Kayleer reclaimed his crutches and shakily stood up. He offered Tejed a hand, and a smile beneath his mask, happy that they had at last reconciled.

* * *

Two signalling blips suddenly shifted direction on a rust-red screen. Instead of heading towards him, they were heading away.

"Why are they changing course? Are they lost? The rendezvous is not an hour away." The pirate was annoyed. The hunter he had hired was stretching his patience thin already, and this sudden hold-up only strained it further.

Though he was merely paid to be a facade, the hunter was expensive. Finding a face for hire who was neither affiliated with the Federation nor of a species known to oppose it was difficult. Little was known about the inhabitants of Cyclosis. 387 had not even known it was inhabited, prior. His anonymity made him valuable; it was impossible for Transfuse to link him to anything. She would trust him, to a point, for she believed he had her promised payment.

Yet 387 was feeling somewhat regretful of his decision. Transfuse had turned around, and so perhaps she no longer had interest in her 'bounty'. To add to that, his hire's rarity made him cocky and demanding. He had made himself far too at home in the pirate's lab, and the various missing pieces of equipment did not go without 387's notice. But his threat of leaving if his demands were not met kept 387 from speaking up.

He made himself a pest among his soldiers, stealing rations and starting brawls by shooting or hitting someone and then framing someone else.

Now he was in the way yet again. The green and black-clad hunter had reclined atop the communications console. He had laid himself directly over the key panel and sent the screen flickering with a hundred invalid commands. And now, having seen both Transfuse and 215's signal change direction, 387 needed to make use of the fritzing console on which he had made his berth.

"I need you to get off the console, and contact her," 387 hissed.

The hunter refused to move, instead returning his order with a question.

"I was just thinking, he really worth seven million?" his voice was gravelly and robotic, sliding through a crude translator.

"Hardly. If you were able to convince someone his DNA was novel, you might fetch a few thousand, and even then I doubt they would want more than a blood sample."

"So, how much would you say _all_ his blood is worth?"

"Enough!" 387 was growing impatient. "Why have they shifted course? Contact her, demand to know why she is failing to meet at the rendezvous."

The hunter suddenly sat up. He raised his rifle and took a threatening tone. "You better take it easy," he spat. But he got up from the console anyway and assumed a more professional position in front of it. He punched in the communication coordinates for Transfuse's ship and waited for her to respond.

The signal bounced back without an answer. The hunter shrugged.

"Try _again_."

"So testy," he mumbled, but he obeyed. Again the signal returned no response.

387 roared. Transfuse knew something, perhaps she had caught on. He glanced at the screen that showed their signals, and that of his nanites. They hadn't alerted him to any serious change in 215's state. 215 was still alive, so it was likely she didn't know _too _much, at least not yet.

"So, looks like you blew it, still need me or..?"

387 glared at him. He gritted his teeth and suppressed the urge to strike him. He recovered a rifle from one of his lab tables, luckily one of the few things the hunter hadn't yet stolen, and locked it into place.

"Make yourself useful and go gather up a raid party. If she won't make this easy I will do it myself."


	64. P3: Chapter 11 - Reunion

_Author's note: Hi everyone, I apologize for the lag in updates lately. Things are pretty hectic right now, I just graduated university, am moving states and switching jobs. I really wanted to get this update up before the end of May, as promised. Updates will probably be closer to bi or tri-weekly now, but it should not be all that many chapters until the conclusion! _

_The new cover image was made by my friend url-okay on tumblr, with some editing and additions by me. They drew me an amazing space pirate(left), and I painted over one(right). Big thank you for the awesome art!_

_On an unrelated note, I do a lot of Metroid art, some of which is related to _Soul. _If you are ever curious to see it, I post it to my Metroid gallery, which you can find linked on my DeviantArt profile under the same name as here._

_Thanks for sticking with us this long. I appreciate every comment, review, and follow. I hope you enjoy the last few chapters._

* * *

Kayleer sighed, and let his eyes wander to the ceiling. He was going back at last. The past hours had been rife with such anxiety that he almost couldn't bear the relief.

Tejed had tidied herself up. She cleared the tears from her eyes and found the strength to smile again. She seemed almost excited, now brimming with optimism. Maybe the pirate really did have the resources to help her.

"You really think you can convince the Federation to help me? I mean I'm not exactly military- and I am the one who destroyed half the hospital," she laughed. "You know this is probably stupid for me, right? They'll probably have me thrown in prison as soon as I get back."

It was a serious fear she had, and more than anything she wanted to spend the trip back convincing the pirate to keep his word.

"I am in good standing with them. They trust me, and they will listen," he reassured her.

"I hope you're right," Tejed groaned. "Hey, if not, no sweat aye? I'll just have Jarvis shoot the roof off whatever hole they've holed me up in and be on my jolly way."

Kayleer smiled. It was relaxing to talk without being at each other's throats, or without her at her own. He never wanted to witness such a deeply vicious self-hatred again. It brought back awful memories of a moment in time where he had felt the exact same way, and he wondered if that was the reason he reacted as he did.

"How long will it take to get back?"

"Why, what's the rush? That assprint on the hospital bed miss ya or something?"

"Just… due for a treatment, that's all," Kayleer bristled.

"You know, I'd almost forgotten you're about as fucked up as I am," Tejed laughed. "Shouldn't be more than a few hours, assuming the fuel holds out."

Kayleer nodded. Soon enough, then.

The ship suddenly lurched, and Kayleer could feel movement in the floor. He instinctively looked at Tejed, hoping it was her who had caused it.

"What was that?" she blurted.

Something sent a tremor through the ship. They both felt it, and their eyes widened at the realization that neither knew the source.

"_Sir, there has been a breach in the cargo hold."_

"A breach?!" she screamed. "By who? Who the hell blew a fucking hole in _my ship?!_"

"_Unknown. The boarding vessel appears to be techno-organic, Tejed."_

A shiver ran through the hybrid's spine. It could mean any number of things, she knew, but the description scared her all the same.

"Stay here," she got up from the table.

"What, but-"

"But _what_, pirate? You're useless, you can't even move, let alone hold a weapon. So stay here and I will deal with it just like I did last time."

"It's not your combat ability I'm worried about," the pirate mumbled.

She shot the pirate a smile and held up her blade. "This is just for them, alright? Promise."

He nodded, though his assurance was a farce at best. But before he could offer another complaint, she was gone.

* * *

She could hear them. Those rude, wretched _invaders, t_he pattering of their alien feet on the deck below. She was ready, and she could handle it, whatever they were. They couldn't be any worse than the horde of phazon grubs she'd dealt with earlier. They would not even leave the cargo hold, they would die there, she decided.

"Who the hell is loitering around on MY ship?!" she screamed as she tore open the door, blade at the ready.

Her voice caught in her throat as she realized who was on the other side. A dozen of them, no less. With those maroon, eel-like faces and six horrible eyes, rows of dingy grey teeth locked in a perpetual grin. Having spent so much time with Kayleer, she had almost replaced her image of them. Kayleer's visage was so much more benign, with softer features and kind eyes. It helped to lessen the pain of her memories. The mere sight of these pure-blooded beasts made her want to vomit. Even more so for the fact that she looked even more like them than Kayleer did.

"_Pirates_," she hissed.

"Transfuse," the one in front spoke first. His voice slithered from his throat, speaking in his disgusting native tongue.

Tejed's heart went cold, her whole body shook with the impact of that word.

"What did you call me? What the _FUCK_ DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!"

387 laughed. He stepped forward from the pod, a slew of pirates and one Cyclosian hunter following behind him.

Tejed faltered backwards towards the door. Why were _pirates_ of all species showing up on her doorstep? "I- I thought you freaks were gone. All corrupted, all you weak pieces of shit _I thought we were DONE WITH YOU_."

Her eyes darted around to each soldier, still reeling in disbelief. The black hunter stood out starkly, and she suddenly remembered who he was. He was the one who had offered her her bounty. She let out an exasperated chuckle. There never had been a bounty after all. Just an ambush, patiently waiting for her to throw herself into it.

"You remember him, don't you?" 387 smirked. "What about me?"

Tejed glared at him. She hated the thought of acknowledging the putrid creature as an individual, but she could not forget those subtle features that had stood out and left an imprint on her brain. How could she forget the face of her tormentor's right-hand?

"You," her maw twisted into a scowl. "Yeah, you come to find me so I could finally kill you?" Suddenly her voice cracked as another fear entered her thoughts. "You're here, is _he?_ He's here too isn't he? _WHERE IS HE?!" _Her eyes darted around the room as she struggled to contain her panic.

387 smiled. "I guess those rancid moths did enough to him that you didn't recognize my former Superior. I assumed as much. Thank you, by the way, for delivering him back safely to us."

"What?" It took her a moment to process. "No," she said. "N-no no, it can't be like that, that isn't true, STOP FUCKING WITH ME!" her voice rose to a roar.

387 took a certain pleasure in her confusion. He had spent decades trying to track her down, and he was enjoying every last second of this bastardized reunion.

"Why would I lie? Why do you think I had you retrieve him? He's far overdue for his post."

"_SHUT THE HELL UP!"_ Tejed screamed. "I-I'll-" She'd what? Her arms were wracked in shudders, she could hardly move her blade. She could hardly move at all. Her legs felt numb, her chest hurt, she couldn't think clearly. All she could do was think about everything his words meant, and though she tried her hardest to deny it she knew it to be true.

Her legs caved inwards and she collapsed. Her hands held against the back of her head as she rocked manically back and forth.

"I, I begged him to forgive me. I felt sorry for him. I-" she felt nauseous at her next words. "_Touched him_. He touched _**me**_." She shivered violently. "I LET HIM TOUCH ME! Oh god I l-let those hands touch me. I cried on that shoulder I-," she stopped suddenly, and felt a wave of nausea turn tangible in her throat as she spewed up something black and brown. She convulsed, she retched on the floor, struggling to get words out through the vomit, "no, no…" she murmured. She wanted to die. She had never wanted to die so badly but in that moment as she realized she had felt something for him. For that wretched, evil _thing._ He had stolen her life, her childhood, her very humanity from her, and here she had spent the last 24 hours joking with him, feeling sorry for him, _embracing _him. He was crippled and helpless, as though the stars had served him up just for her, just so she could do everything she ever wanted to do to him. Everything she had ever fantasized about doing all those years she had stared at him, helpless from a cage.

"I could have killed him," she realized. "I could have done it right there and then, so, SO easily. I could've, I could've cut him open. Cut him deep. I could have just left him somewhere and flown away and _starved him, poisoned him, scraped away at his organs_, _bit by bit_," her mouth frothed with the exhilaration of her fantasies. "Infected him…"

387 had heard enough. He motioned to his squadron, and they moved forward to seize her. She was paralyzed on the floor, still rocking back and forth, still talking to herself like the manic creature she was. 387 had chosen his words well, it seemed as though they had been enough to completely incapacitate her.

But she was still aware, she could sense those wretched creatures getting closer.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" she screamed. She shot up from the floor in a fiery rage. She lashed out with her blade. The pirates around her recoiled, and gave her an opening. She bolted back towards the door. There was still time. She could run and get back to the deck, back to _him_. She could still get to him before they did.

"Sylux!" 387 hissed impatiently. The black hunter raised his rifle and prepared to strike.

A mechanical claw suddenly burst from the ceiling and grabbed 387 by the head. Another took the hunter by the leg and slammed his head against the floor in the resulting flip.

Tejed frothed with laughter. Jarvis had taken them out so easily, and she was no longer encumbered.

The black hunter's hand reached towards the ceiling. With an inhuman strength, he gripped the metal and ripped it from the ship, exposing a network of wires. He fired his weapon into the mechanical wound, a strange display of lively, visible static that flowed from the ceiling and into his rifle.

The ship's lights began to flicker. The gravity faltered for a moment and the hiss of air flow sputtered before picking back up again.

_"Tejed, I can no loongerrr…"_ the AI's voice deepened and slowed, dropping to a low, distorted groan before falling silent. The mechanical arms holding the invaders captive slackened and went limp. The hunter immediately aimed his rifle at a new target.

She was almost there, almost back to the deck. She just needed to open the door- but a sharp pain in her spine stopped her in her tracks.

Dim, dim, everything was going dim. Everything felt so _heavy_, far too heavy to lift. Her arms, her legs, her head. She lost the strength to keep herself upright.

She could hear the sound of crackling air. Her groggy eyes drifted open just long enough to see the cause. The black and green hunter had caught up to her, his strange weapon firing right into her back. The lights were still flickering, and she could hear the sound of pirate laughter, fading and fading until she heard nothing more.

* * *

"Jarvis, what's happening?"

The AI did not answer. Kayleer could hear the sound of footsteps drawing closer. He could hear the sound of sparks, the sound of speech…

He cautiously neared the door. As he came closer, he recognized Urtragian words. He backed away, suddenly feeling weak. How did they find him? What would they do to Tejed?

He wished he could understand what they were saying, what they were planning. One thing he did understand, though, they were coming for him next. He did not know what had happened to Tejed, nor to Jarvis. He was alone now, and he was their last target. If they got to him, if they got to 215, it was all over. For him, and for Tejed.

He could not fight, but he could retreat. He could run and find help. Frantically the pirate weighed his options. "Jarvis?" he tried again, and again with no answer. He quickly recalled what he had done the previous time the ship had had unwanted guests, and rushed back to the pilot's console.

There was a banging on the door. Cautious first, then destructively loud. He was running out of time. Running on muscle memory, he punched in the command codes to the ship, to detach and disable compromised sections.

"_Whaaat are youuudoing," _a slow, distorted AI voice rang through the ship. Kayleer ignored it. He figured Tejed's AI would object to what he was doing, but he didn't have time to argue.

The ship jostled forward as the cargo hold separated. The engines fired and tore it away. Kayleer quickly commanded the ship into warp, leaving the cargo hold, and everyone inside it, far behind.


	65. P3 - Chapter 12 - Return

"_WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!"_ A synthesized voice screamed with a surprising amount of emotion.

Kayleer tried to answer, but found his words immediately cut off as an intense force hit his body. He collapsed to the floor, wheezing as the air was forced from his lungs by some unseen pressure. His respirator struggled to function and he could hear the metal bending. It felt as though every inch of his body was weighed down with a hundred tonnes.

"_You left her to die you sniveling pirate, to be tortured yet again!" _

"Jarvis, I can't breathe."

"_Yes, and I'm going to up the artificial gravity until that neck of yours snaps, _215_."_

"215?" Kayleer was shocked to hear the name. What had happened when those pirates came aboard? "W-where did you hear that name? Jarvis, please let me explain," Kayleer pleaded, gasping futilely as he wasted precious oxygen with every word.

"_Explain what, 215? How you left your former experiment in the hands of your assistant, to return to her life as a wretched labrat?"_ The gravity intensified and the pirate retched, his fists clenched in pain as his spine threatened to snap.

"M-my former experiment?" Kayleer wheezed. "What are you-"

The gravity intensified again, and cut him off.

"_Transfuse! He called her Tranfuse. Do not play dumb with me, 215. All of this was planned, all of this was a ploy to get her back into pirate hands. I suppose you didn't count on yourself being a casualty, now did you."_

"What plan?! I detached the cargo hold to HELP HER!"

Gravity suddenly shifted direction, hurling Kayleer against the far wall.

"_DO NOT LIE!"_ Jarvis screamed. "_You did it to separate me from her, so I could not protect her from you and the rest of that pirate _scum."

"Jarvis I had nothing to do with her capture! I am unarmed, defenseless! I-if I had stayed, they would have taken me, and stolen away any semblance of mercy I had. They would have forced me to join them, to revert to 215!" Kayleer wheezed, his words choked out. "The only way I could save her, was to ensure I still had the power to help her. I did not abandon her, I can have a Federation force after her within the day! P-please, Jarvis, you know who I am, what I did for the Federation, I AM NOT ALLIED WITH PIRATES!"

The pressure suddenly lightened as the ship returned to normal. Kayleer fell back down to the floor. His respirator resumed pumping as he gasped in grateful breaths of air.

"_What do you mean 'revert to 215', are you saying you're not him?" _

"Not exactly, I.. _was_ him, or he was me it's-" he shook his head. "It's not important, what is important is getting help to Tejed before 387 hurts her. Please, Jarvis."

The AI fell silent, uncertain how to proceed.

"_You will lead me to your Federation help. You will provide me coordinates for a rendezvous, and if I have any suspicion that you are misleading me, I am turning off the oxygen. Is that clear?"_

"Please, I just want to help her escape."

Kayleer tried to think where he could go for help. There was one man of stature who knew him well, and perhaps he would be willing to help him_, _but what incentive did he have to go out of his way to help Tejed?

"She's been captured by pirates, there's pirates still alive- the Federation will do everything in their power to locate and eradicate them," he reasoned. "And if I tell them they have a human hostage, they'll save her first."

"_Kayleer, I need a location."_

"The Olympus," he replied. "But, even when we get there, how will we lead them to Tejed? How can we find her?"

"_She has a tracking chip,"_ the AI informed him. "_I will transmit the coordinates to them when we get there." _

Kayleer nodded, and slumped down against the ship's wall. He began to reflect on what the AI had told him.

"'My former experiment?'" he repeated. "You can't mean-"

Transfuse. That's what Jarvis had said. No, it couldn't be, it just couldn't be her. All this time he had been aboard a ship with 215's human experiment?

"How is she still even alive…"

The pirate didn't know what to think. He remembered those brief glimpses he'd had into his former life years ago, of that little green-eyed girl he had tortured and mutilated. This was what she had become.

"It's my fault," he realized. "It-it's my fault she's like that."

The revelation made fresh his wounds, and suddenly the burden of his past life hit him full force.

"_You _do_ remember, don't you. You really are 215."_

It was her. It was _her._ He couldn't believe he had been in her presence. He was mortified. She hadn't known, had she?

"No, no she couldn't have, if she had known she would have-" Kayleer stopped. He knew what would have happened, and he found himself wishing desperately that it had.

"_She would have killed you, and she has every right to."_

"I know, alright!" the pirate cried. "I know… I deserve it."

"_What?"_

"None of this should have happened. None of what that bastard pirate did should have happened. Tejed, the others. I am the cause of so much human suffering. That's why I, that's why I joined this war, Jarvis. I don't know what I was looking for, to repay a debt, something, _anything_ to help them but-"

He wanted to cry, like Adelaide, like Tejed, like humans did. He was desperate for some sort of reprieve, but he was not human. He wasn't even Luminoth. He was a pirate through and through, and he would carry the sins of his species with him as long as he lived.

Now he had come face to face with the fruit of his deeds, and he found himself overwhelmed with the desire to die. How could he continue to live, knowing she was still enduring his torture every single day? What could he possibly say or do to make things better?

Once more he found himself tempted by death. How easy it would be now, too. He need only dismember the delicate breathing apparatus on his face.

He shook his head. "Tejed, I'm so sorry…"

But there was still one thing he needed to do, one thing he could do for her. It was only right that she be freed from the pirates she had already suffered so much at the hands of. Despite everything he had done to her, she continued to live. She continued to fight. Even if he thought his own life worthless, she clearly didn't share the sentiment, or she would have died long ago. When she was free, he decided, he would abandon himself to her judgement.

A quiet beeping stirred the pirate from his thoughts. The read on his chest was flashing red. How long had it been, since they had left? It couldn't have run out already, it couldn't have. How far was it to the Olympus?

Kayleer began to tremble. "No, no, not now, _not NOW!_"

"_What is it? What is that sound?"_

Perhaps Jarvis had damaged his medicating system when he toyed with the gravity, or maybe he truly had gotten careless time. He should have noticed it running low hours ago.

The pirate's limbs twitched as he felt a strange strength begin to fill them. His vision began to come into focus, everything looked sharper and more clear. The sound of his respirator suddenly became deafening to him, and the dull numbness that wracked his body seemed to lessen. He could feel his toes again, and flexed his long-inert legs.

It filled him with momentary happiness to feel every debilitating setback he had endured these past few months begin to lift from his body. But it quickly soured to fear when Kayleer realized what was happening. The read on his chest had ceased flashing, it was empty and dark, and amidst all the returning senses he could feel a familiar anger rising in his mind.

215 was waking up.

* * *

"When I get out of here, I'm going to _cut you open_."

"'When?'" 387 chuckled. "Oh, that's amusing. When you get out it will be to head to the airlock where the rest of the garbage goes."

Tejed gritted her teeth. She couldn't believe she was back. It was all she could do just to muster the mental strength to speak. She had spent hours envisioning the horrors she would be reliving, yet now she found herself almost disappointed by the mundanity of her captor.

She was not restrained. She hadn't been injected with anything, least not that she could tell. 387 didn't seem concerned with tampering with her, but she knew he had taken something from her. Her arm was sore with a fresh welt where the pirate had drawn blood.

She glared at him. What was his intention? Why did he go through all this effort for a little blood? Was that all he needed?

He took a brief pause from his work and glanced over at her. The mutant's scowl refused to falter.

"I remember that look," he reminisced. "Strange that I'm the one getting it now. I guess it's just one of many things I'll need to get used to, being in command."

"What the hell is your angle, why'd you bring me here? Just for that? A tiny spot of blood? What the fuck do you need me for that's still fucking relevant? What are you _DOING,_ it's been decades, WHY DID YOU BRING ME BACK?!"

The pirate looked dully into the bottom of a clear red flask. "Truth be told, I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing," he admitted. "215 would. He would get this done more quickly than me, and I could put you out of your misery faster. But you and your little bastard ship made that rather hard, now didn't you?"

"Oh, boo-fucking-HOO!" Tejed spat. "What, sad your boyfriend's not here to boss you around? Sad he's not here to slap 'yer skinny ass into line and do all the hard work for ya?"

387 snarled. Tejed recoiled back in her cell, suddenly regretting her brash words, but the pirate's grimace quickly turned to a laugh.

"215 had a short temper, you won't be able to play me quite so easily."

He turned back to his work, reading through line after line of data on a cluttered screen. It was Transfuse's genetic code, and 387 rifled through each segment diligently, searching for where 215 had left off.

His predecessor had left markers in place; tiny molecular flags that denoted critical segments of human DNA. It was a way that even 387 could see what genes 215 had deemed important. The pirate wondered how his former Superior had the foresight to put such a measure in place. He must have known his work carried the risk of being lost. He must have been afraid, moreover, that the Parasite itself would seek to sabotage it, and so he had kept it off the logs. He had kept a record of his experiment right in her genes, each time he came closer to isolating her resistance. Transfuse carried with her not only the cure, but the very blueprints on how to make it.

215's work was unfinished, and so the isolation was incomplete. The markers likely encapsulated other traits beyond phazon resistance. It was impossible to know the side effects of using it, short-term or long.

But it would work. That was all that mattered.


	66. P3 - Chapter 13 - Synthesis

_I apologize for the sparse updates lately. We are nearing the end, and I really want to make these last chapters as good as they can be. We're 66 chapters in, and sometimes I honestly can't believe how long this has gotten!_

_I love to hear your thoughts, critiques, and comments. Feedback is helpful both as a motivator to keep writing and as notes for what I can improve on or clarify. I really appreciate everyone who takes the time to write a comment or leave a message, as well as everyone who follows or favorites. Thanks for your support, and I hope you enjoy the next few chapters. _

* * *

It started slowly. He could feel something volatile rising in his mind, a slow burn that threatened to erupt at any moment. A low, visceral voice clawed away at his skull, insulting him, calling him meek, pushing him aside. His legs and arms started moving, though he had no desire for them to do so.

"No, no, no, not again..." he whimpered.

He began to feel light-headed, to feel himself giving in. A thousand strings were tugging against his every muscle, and it seemed so much easier to simply let them have their way.

"No, NO!" his voice rose to a scream.

The voice in his head screamed too, demanding his obedience.

_What are you doing, _slave? _You think you'll stop me? You're a pathetic, weak little _coward_. Now submit to me, I have work to do._

Kayleer's eyes clenched as he endured the living migraine. He threw his head back against the wall and screamed, again and again.

"_Kayleer? What has come over you?" _Jarvis wondered for a moment if Tejed's insanity was somehow contagious.

_Let me MOVE!_ 215's voice hissed, he fought with every ounce of will as he forced Kayleer to stand, only for him to collapse immediately back to the ground.

"No."

Another indignant hiss, another surge of aches and spasms as 215 fought for control. But things were different this time. Kayleer felt in him a strength he had not known before.

He could feel his past life inside his head, demanding his compliance. There was a barrier between them, and 215 was forcing his own side forward, trying to overtake him as he had done before. Yet he seemed meticulously careful to keep the wall between them standing. Why? What would happen if it broke? Kayleer wondered if the scientist was afraid of just that.

Kayleer finally stopped pushing back. Instead, he began to chisel at the very foundation of what separated him from his old self. 215 recoiled, and Kayleer could feel him begin to retreat.

_What are you DOING_!?

Bit by bit, Kayleer broke down the barrier. His mind began to open, to renew long-broken connections. He delved into 215's mind, into his thoughts and memories. He was tired of cowering, pretending they weren't a part of him. The barrier at last shattered, and everything that was 215 became available to Kayleer. His memories were no longer out of reach, his thoughts no longer private.

215 was scared. He felt exposed and violated. He was completely overwhelmed as he was forced to see the alien's world, to feel everything he had. Nostalgia, remorse, depression, joy and empathy. Things pirates were not meant to know, things that made pirates _weak_. He felt incredibly nauseous. He had been infected with the slave's weakness.

_Disgusting, DISGUSTING! _he protested. He wanted to vomit, but felt the reflex denied. _Miserable, petty, WEAK like a human! Y_et no matter how hard he fought, he could not deny that he was outmatched. The slave had overpowered him.

With a final slam of his frenzied head against the ship wall, Kayleer completed the connection. The pirate's eyes tore open, and he roared in triumph beneath his mask. His body felt strong again, his senses keen and focused. He took in his first breath of natural air in months, and found the tube inside his throat more infuriating than ever. He reached for his jaw and tore the mask from his face. The tube came with it, and he gagged a bout of red liquid.

He tore the gauge from his chest and reached for his back, pulling the life support system free from his body. Plastic crippled, metal bent out of shape. Wires came flying from their sockets in a violent spark. The bulk of his equipment now lie broken on the floor, and Kayleer began to pull out the tiny needles still nestled in the joints of his exoskeleton. Pinpricks of black blood turned into trails that ran down his chest and arms, and he could feel the incredible soreness that came with straining his atrophied limbs. But he did not care. He took in breath after breath, so overjoyed as his chest filled with air of his own accord.

He could breathe. Finally, after so long, he could _breathe. _He could see, feel, think and remember with more clarity than ever before.

For the first time in his life, he felt complete.

"_What just happened?"_

The voice startled Kayleer. He couldn't remember where he was, nor could he understand the AI's words. He looked around as though to find the source of the noise.

_"What happened, Kayleer?"_ the AI repeated.

The pirate's awareness came flooding back. "What happened?" he repeated. "What happened...to me,... Jarvis? Oh, n-nothing," he stammered. "_Eressrah."_

"_What?"_

Kayleer blinked. He'd just spoken Urtragian. His thoughts were suddenly a mesh of two languages, and it was difficult to keep track of which one he needed to speak.

"Nothing, nothing important, Jarvis."

"_You just screamed for eight minutes while banging your head against a wall, then tore apart your life support system. And you expect me to believe that nothing happened?"_

Kayleer only shrugged.

"_You will give me an explanation, or I will turn off the oxy-"_

"Alright!" He yelled, muttering under his breath. "My drugs ran out and wore off, that's all. It was an experimental medical treatment I was on. It's purpose was to… heal a broken spine. It worked, and the anesthesia that made me crippled wore off, that's all. Tha-at's _all._ I am all better now."

The AI was silent for a moment, suspicious of the lie. "_We are nearing the Olympus."_

"The Federation?!" Kayleer yelled, suddenly stricken with panic. "Oh, yes, right, to request ...a rescue party for Tra-Tejed? Of course, good."

"_Are you sure you're feeling alright?"_

"Why wouldn't I be? Are you blind? I just went from wearing a respirator and crutches to being completely independent, and you're asking if I 'feel alright'."

The AI paused, unsure what to make of the pirate's reaction. "_You are different."_

Kayleer blinked, staring at the floor. Different? Different how? The AI could notice?

"Must just be a side effect," he reassured it. "But, I feel fine, I promise." He was lying, of course. He knew exactly what had changed, and he knew he felt different because of it. But the pirate couldn't quite put his finger on what he had done to give himself away.

"_Very well. I have transmitted a message to the Olympus. We will be boarding shortly."_

Kayleer felt a chill run down his spine. He couldn't possibly confront humans, let alone ask for their help, could he?

Why not? He had done it so many times before, yet now he found the prospect terrifying.

"_Kayleer, I need you to confirm your verification code to the Olympus,"_ the AI stirred him from his thoughts.

"Oh, y-yes of course," he answered.

215's own fears were poisoning him, he realized. But he couldn't allow that part of him to sabotage his mission.

Meditate. He desperately wanted to meditate on this, but Tejed's ship swiftly rose up into a docking bay as his identity was verified. The doors opened to reveal the familiar sight of the Federation flagship.

Two armored troopers awaited him on the deck, saluting their fellow marine as he walked out to greet them. Kayleer hesitated, at first perplexed by the gesture. He quickly raised his own hand to mirror them. The troopers looked at one another, confused. The pirate realized he was using his left hand, and hastily switched.

"Uh, you're cleared to meet with the Admiral. Follow me."

Kayleer hesitantly obeyed. His head twitched from side to side as he took in the atmosphere around him. The silvers and blues of Federation equipment made him viciously uncomfortable, and he hoped desperately for a change in scenery. The trooper led him away through several passages infested with humans. They made him uneasy too, particularly the unarmored ones. They were so small and fragile, and he felt almost obligated to do something about it.

Kayleer was quickly aware of the chaos in his thoughts. He did his best to quell it, and focus on what lied ahead. As the trooper led him through a final doorway, he found himself greeted by a familiar human face. His dull green uniform offered him a great deal of comfort.

"Kayleer?" the Admiral looked him over, he bristled with a sudden wariness. "What happened to you, where's your equipment?"

"I-" the pirate stopped. He couldn't lie to him as he had done to Jarvis. "The IV wore off and I, well I found it quite useless… Sir. I was able to recover without it."

"I ...see," the Admiral answered. "And Ashwitt approved this?"

The pirate stifled a growl. He hated being questioned. "N-no not yet. But I intend to tell him."

"Hm," the Admiral cocked a brow and kept his distance. "Right… well, why don't you elaborate on the transmission your ship just sent me. You've spotted pirates?"

"Yes!" He answered eagerly. "Their last battalion, I am certain. They are uninfected and vulnerable. But they have a human hostage- she is the one who has allowed us to track them."

"Sir, we've received a set of coordinates," a stationed trooper's voice chimed in. A vast array of stars appeared on a projector behind the Admiral. A visible ping resonated in its center, signifying the location Jarvis had sent them.

The Admiral grinned. "Excellent work, Kayleer. We'll send a stealth force in to free the hostage, then we'll obliterate every pirate on board. This will be the last we ever see of them."

_Obliterate every pirate?_

"No, no you can't do that," Kayleer suddenly blurted.

The Admiral stared at him. "Why not, what's wrong?"

"Because I won't let you," he growled. He stepped forward and grabbed the Admiral by the neck.

The pirate snarled in his face as he hoisted him upwards. Kayleer couldn't remember ever seeing the Admiral's eyes filled with such a terror. Good, it was good that he was scared, because he was going to kill him.

But... why? His plan, isn't that what he had come here for in the first place? To free Tejed and do away with her captors?

"I-"

What was he doing? Why was he having these thoughts? He didn't care about pirates, he _loathed _them. And the Admiral, how could he possibly do this to him?

Shocked, Kayleer released the Admiral from his grasp. The pirate froze in place, unable to look away from the terrified human face shuffling away on the floor beneath him. He realized the words he had just spoken to him were Urtragian.

He regained control, but all too late. Everyone had heard him speak in pirate tongue, they had seen him threaten the Admiral, and now that he had released him, they made their move. The Admiral retreated to safety as three troopers assaulted the pirate. One leaped onto his back and took hold of his neck, while two more dragged his hands to the floor. He didn't put up a fight, he simply collapsed. In an instant he found himself bound and on the ground. It felt like some sort of nightmare. He couldn't believe what he had just done.

"Admiral, I- forgive me!" he pleaded.

"You, are unstable," the human spoke grimly, struggling to catch his breath as he rubbed his neck. "I want you, back on that IV, Ashwitt had for you as soon as-"

"NO!" Kayleer roared. "No, I'm not going back on that stuff. Never, _never_ again. I won't go back to being a cripple!" he snarled. "_Urrevghet kasshra, _I would rather _die. "_

The Admiral grimaced, "Who am I talking to, exactly?"

"What a stupid question, you can understand me right now, can't you? And even if it wasn't who you wanted, you think I wouldn't be capable of lying?"

What was he saying? Why was he talking this way, was he out of his mind?

The Admiral shook his head. "I should have known it was only a matter of time before you turned back into one of them."

"What are you talking about?!" Kayleer yelled. "Would a pirate have come back here to give you the location of our last survivors?"

"How can I know it's not a trap?" The Admiral narrowed his gaze. "'Human hostage'," he laughed. "I'm sure that's just a ploy to get us in there at reduced firepower, isn't it?"

"Sir, his ship is registered to one Tejed Jenal, a bounty hunter. She's a Federation fugitive for a recent crime of destroying a hospital on Vaeres."

"Your 'human hostage', I presume?" the Admiral sneered as a file image of Tejed popped up on the projector. For all appearances, she looked more pirate than human, and Kayleer quickly realized he had miscalculated.

"But she IS!" he pleaded. "You don't understand-"

"This pirate cannot be trusted. Put him under lockdown in the lower levels, and keep him out of trouble."

"NO!" Kayleer screamed. "YOU CAN'T!" He fought desperately against his restraints, but he was bound by the wrists and knees. He could do little else but squirm about as the troopers dragged him away. He yelled out pleas and explanations, all falling on deaf ears. There was nothing he could do to undo the damage he had just done.


End file.
